Old Guy

White hair.

Grizzled beard.

Broken bones.

Dimmed eyes.

Narrow path.

Dark future.

Different faces.

Different names.

Same old stories.

Same old world.

Nothing to see.

Nothing to hear.

Nothing to feel.

Just the naked gun

and pale bullets.

Click.

All goes white.

Brown eyes,

youthful face,

passes in an instant.

The gun drops.

Falling bullets.

The door was open.

As footsteps trudge

along an unknown path.

Waiting

I look up at the stars illuminating your face

as clear as the sunset’s glaze

but as dark as the moon’s shadow.

I touched your hand through an air of whispers

Your airy fingertips caressed my skin.

The illusion of words danced across my mind

like a dream of heaven and hell.

The vesper of your thoughts

merge with mine.

Tracing every line of your face

its innate elegance and hidden crudeness.

The sough of your voice

an angel’s murmur

the devil’s laugh.

Something familiar.

Something beautiful.

Something to hold onto.

Something to let go.

I will always have you but I never will.

Puting Eroplano

Ipinanganak si Carlos Villanueva noong isang malamig na gabi nang Disyembre sa mag-asawang Ramon at Cecilia. Hugis mani ang kanyang mga mata at kayumanggi ang ningning ng mga ito. Mapula-pula ang kanyang kayumangging balat at kasing bilog ng bola ang mukha ng bata. Tuwang-tuwa silang dalawa sa anak nilang lalake. Kurot sila ng kurot sa mga matambok na pisngi at maliit na ilong. Rinig sa buong ospital ang hagikgikan ng pamilya.  Lahat gagawin ng mag-asawa para lumaki ng mabuti at masaya ang kanilang anak.

Ang tatay ni Carlos ay isang piloto ng eroplano kaya lagi niyang kinakarga at ipinapalipad si Carlos sa kanyang mga braso. Ang beybing Cralos ay tuwang-tuwa tuwing lumilipad siya sa langit at kinikiliti ng hanging ang kanyang mga pisngi.

Sa paglaki ni Carlo paboritong-paborito niya ang pagpapalipad ng puting eroplano. Kasama niya ang kanyang ama sa parke tuwing hapon upang paliparin ang puting eroplano sa sumasayaw na hangin.

Tuwing umuuwi si Ramon galing sa iba’t ibang bansa lagi siyang nag-uuwi ng pasalubong para kay Carlos. Noong nanggaling siya sa Amerika binigyan niya si Carlos ng laruang eroplano na kulay pula. Sa imahinasyon ni Carlos ang munting eroplanong ito ay lumilipad sa himpapawid patungong buwan at paikot ng buong mundo. Hinahaplos ng bughaw ng dagat ang kanyang mukha at napupuno ng kanta ng hangin ang kanyang mga tenga tuwing sinasakyan niya ang kanyang pulang eroplano. Noong nanggaling ang kanyang ama sa Indya binigyan siya ng itim na eroplano. Pumasok sa isipan ni Carlos ang sari-saring sayaw at kulay ng buong Indya na nakita at naramdaman ng kanyang tatay. Ang kinang ng Taj Mahal sa sikat ng araw at ang anino nito sa liwanag ng buwan. Ang lawak at lalim ng Ganges sa likod ng kanyang mga mata.

Noong umuwi si Ramon galing Tsina tuwang-tuwa si Carlos. Inaantay niya ang bagong eroplanong makukuha niya bukod doon sa itim at pula na nabigay sa kanya ng kanyang ama. Nagkunwari si Ramon na wala siyang dala ngunit hindi nakalusot sa mga matalas na mata ni Carlos. Bumigay na ang ama at inilabas ang dilaw na eroplanong nakabalot sa plastik. Talon ng talon si Carlos sa bago niyang laruang eroplano. Ikinuwento ni Ramon ang kanyang mga nakita noong bumisita siya sa Tsina. Naghanda ng merienda si Cecilia para sa mag-ama. Dalawang baso ng malamig na juice at kakanin na gawa ng lola ni Carlos na si Imelda.

Ipinapalipad ni Carlos ang kanyang bagong eroplano habang nagsasalaysay ang kanyang ama tungkol sa mga nakita niya sa Tsina. Sa pagkuwento ng kanyang ama naramdaman ni Carlos ang ihip ng hangin sa pagtwaid sa Great Wall. Bawat tulo ng pawis at hinga ng dibdib tumatak sa katawan ni Carlos. Ang singaw ng masasarap na ulam at dighay ng kanyang ama sa pag-ubos rito ay kumikiliti sa isipan ni Carlos. Ang puting laruang eroplano ang pinakapaborito ni Carlos sa lahat ng nabigay ng kanyang ama. Paborito niya ito dahil ito ang laruang nakuha niya noong nakalibot sila sa Pilipinas noong nagbakasyon ang kanyang ama. Masayang-masaya si Carlos dahil magkasama na silang buong pamilya sa pagbiyahe hindi nakahiwalay sa kaniyang ama.

Nalunod ang kanyang mga mata sa sari-saring dalampasigan sa Palawan at Cebu. Ang asul na kulay ng mga dagat nito ay sumasayaw sa kanyang mga mata. Lumulusot sa kanyang mga maliit na kamay ang purong-puro na puting buhangin habang naglalaro siya kasama ang kanyang ina. Patuloy ang kasiyahan sa pamilya Villanueva habang buo ang pamilya. Bumubuo sila ng mga bagong ala-ala sa mga nabisita nilang lugar sa Pilipinas at sa mga napupuntahan ni Ramon bilang isang piloto. Ang mga laruang eroplano ay mga sagisag ng kanilang mga matatamis na ala-ala.

Pagkalipas ng ilang buwan noong siyam na taong gulang na si Carlos dinalaw sila ng trahedya. Naaksidente si Ramon habang papaalis pa lang ang eroplano patungong Britanya. Pumutok ang isang makina ng pakpak at sumadsad ang eroplano sa daan. Maraming mga taong nasakatan at namatay.

Hindi makapaniwala ang mag-ina sa narinig na aksidente. Nilamon ng iyak ni Cecilia ang gabi ngunit si Carlos hindi tumulo ang luha kahit isang patak. Lumipas ang mga araw at unti-uting lumalabo ang pangin ni Carlos. Ang mga iba’t ibang larawan ng mga lugar na nakita niya at ikinuwento ng kanyang ama ay inaagnas at dinadala ng hangin ng limot. Sa pagalala dinala ni Cecilia si Carlos sa isang doktor sinabi ng doktor hindi niya alam kung ano ang nangyayari kay Carlos at bakit lumalabo ang mata nito. Nagbigay siya ng mga gamot na akala niyang magpapagaling sa sakit ng bata. Kumaripas ang mga buwan patungo sa pagtapos ng taon at lumalala ang pagkalabo ng mata ni Carlos. Nakatitig na lang ang batang si Carlos sa mga laruan niyang eroplano wala nang mga kulay ito sa kanyang paningin. Dahan-dahan niyang pinapadaan ang kanyang mga kamay sa mga ito ngunit walang bumabalik na ala-ala sa kanyang isipan. Nagmistulang panaginip lamang ang kanyang mga makukulay na ala-ala. Bumalik ang mag-ina sa doktor upang makahanap ng sagot sa kanilang mga tanong. Tiningnan ng doktor ang mga mata ni Carlos. Ang buntung hininga ng doktor ay sumadsad sa katotohanang matagal ng kutob ni Cecilia. “Mabubulag na ang anak ninyo.”

Hinanda ni Cecilia ang anak sa magiging buhay nito mula ngayon. Ngunit sa loob-looban niya hindi niya tanggap na mabubulag ang kanyang anak at wala na ang kanyang asawa. Kitang-kita ang hinagpis sa mukha ni Cecilia. Ang kanyang kirot sa pisngi. Ang maga ng kanyang mga mata sa kakaiyak. Ngunit hindi ito nakita ni Carlos ang boses at mga salita lamang ang kanyang narinig. Itinago ni Cecilia ang kanyang ramdam na sakit sa likod ng mahinahon na boses.

Noong unang mga araw hirap na hirap si Cecilia kay Carlos dahil sa pagkabulag nito. Laging na-uuntog at nagkakalat ang batang si Carlos. Walang ibang ginagawa iyong bata kundi kumain at matulog nalimutan na niya na mayroon siyang mga sariling kamay at paa na gumagalaw at kumikilos. Umasa siya ng lubusan sa kanyang ina na saluhin ang kanyang bawat pagkakamali at pagkilos. Biolang isang ina hindi tumanggi si Cecilia binigay niya ang lahat sa kanyang ina. Itinago niya ang kanyang dalumhati sa pagkawalay ng asawa at ang sakit na nakikita sa anak na bulag sa kanyang malumanay na boses.

Lumipas ang mga buwan, nasa itaas ng hagdan si Cecilia hinahanap ang batang si Carlos. Ang batang bulag ay dahan-dahan hinahanap ang hagdan pababa mula sa kanyang kwarto. Ang kanyang mga alanganing yapak ay takda ng pagkasanay sa pagtulong ng ina. Kinakapa ng bawat daliri ang daan at mga pader ang pangalan ng ina ang tanging maririnig sa kanyang bibig. Sa pagkarinig ni Cecilia ng boses ng anak nabuo ang kanyang mga sasabihin sa kanyang isipan ngunit ayaw lumabas ng mga ito sa kanyang bibig. Umapaw ang mga salita at pangungsap sa dulo ng kanyang dila ngunit nagmatigas ng ulo ang mga ito at nanatili na lamang sa kanilang puwesto. Nagulat si Cecilia nang malaman niyang hindi na siya makapagsalita hinanap niya agad si Carlos umiikot sa kanyang bibig ang pangalan ng bata ngunit hindi siya marinig nito. Sa mga sumunod na sandali pahina ng pahina ang boses ng bata sa kanyang mga tenga. Hinanap ng hinanap ni Cecilia ang kanyang anak sa bawat sulok ng ikalawang palapag ngunit nadaanan niya lang ito noong papunta ang bata sa hagdan. Hindi niya nakita agad ang bata dahil sa kanyang pagmamadali at pagkalito. Ang huling pumasok sa tenga ni Cecilia noong nakita na niya ang kanyang anak na nasa dulo ng hagdan ay ‘i-n-a.’ Kumaripas ang mga usok at naiwan sa kanyang paanan ang kanyang pagkalito noong nakita niyang humakabang ang anak at muntik ng mahulog sa hagdan. Hinagip niya ang anak sa isang tabi at ynakap ng matindi. May mga salitang umiikot sa bibig ng bata ngunit hindi ito marinig ni Cecilia. Hindi na siya makarinig. Ayaw lumabas ng iyak sa kayang mga labi urong-sulong ang kabig ng kanyang dibdib. Tinanong ni Carlos sa kanyang ina bakit ka umiiyak? Ngunit hindi niya ito narinig. Ang boses ni Carlos ay tumalbog sa bawat pader ng ikalawang palapag hanggang sa inagnas nang hangin.

Sa unang mga araw ng kakaibang pangyayaring ito hinarap ni Cecilia ang sitwasyon puno ng hinagpis at galit sa sinapit nila. Bakit ba naman dadagdagan ng Diyos ang kanilang paghihirap bukod sa nabawian ng asawa at ama binawian pa ng mata, bibig, at tenga. Nabigo si Cecilia noong bumisita sila sa doktor. Hindi maintindihan ng siyensya kung paano nangyari ang ganito. Ilang beses tiningnan ng doktor ang kanyang tenga at vocal chords ngunit wala siyang makitang problema rito. Kinamot niya ang kanyang ulo at nagbuntong hininga gannon ba magbiro ang tadhana na magbigay ng inang pipi at bingi at anak na bulag. Hindi pa alam ni Carlos na bingi at pipi ang kanyang ina itinago ito ni Cecilia sa kanya. Dahil takot siyang mas lalong malumpo ang kanyang anak at kunin ito sa kanya ng mga otoridad pagbinansagan siyang wala sa kundisyon para mag-alaga ng batang bulag. Ngunit ang tinatagong takot ni Cecilia sa kanyang puso ay ang takot na hindi na siya kailanganin ng kanyang anak. Wala na siya sa kanyang tabi pag-iyak nito at tuwing pagsugat ng kanyang tuhod ito ang takot na pumipigil at kumakapit sa kanyang buong katawan. Sinabi ng doktor ang katotohanan kay Carlos. Nagulat ang ina noong lumapit sa kanya ang anak bukas ang mga bisig at binigyan siya ng mahigpit na yakap. Hindi siya umiyak o nagulat sa sinabi sa kanya ng doktor. Basta alam niyang hindi niya iiwan ang kanyang ina.

Sa mga unang araw si Carlos ang bibig at tenga ni Cecilia at si Cecilia naman ang mga mata ni Carlos. Sa umpisa madalas nagkakalituhan ang mag-ina sa mga ginagawa nila. May mga ulong nag-uumpugan kung nalito sa utos at sa magugulong kamay na atat makatulong. Nagkakamaling kulay ng suot ng damit ang gustong asul na kulay ay nagiging itim. Ang hinihinging paminta para sa sinigang ay nagiging asin. Nagkakainisan ang mag-ina sa isa’t isa dahil hindi sila nagkakaintindihan. Ang mga batok sa ulo at mahihinang sampal sa mukha ni Carlos ay takda ng pagkainis ni Cecilia sa mga pagkakamali. Ang bawi naman ni Carlos ay ang pagsisigaw sa inay tuwing nagkakamali ito. Ngunit sa pagkakagulong ito hindi pa rin sila magkaintindihan. Hindi maintindihan ng bawat isa kung bakit sinampal at kung bakit nagwawala. Umaalingawngaw ang boses ng bata tuwing kinakausap nito ang binging ina. Natutong magbasa ng bibig si Cecilia at mas nakikinig siya ngayon kumpara sa panahong nakakarinig at nakakapagsalita pa siya.

Nagdesisyon ang dalawa na dapat matuto silang mabuhay ng mag-isa kahit may kapansanan sila. Kailangan ng matapos ang pagkakalito at pagdepende masyado sa isa’t isa. Inaalalayan ni Cecilia ang anak tuwing sinusubukan nitong maglakad mag-isa. Ang kanyang mga kamay na humahaplos sa mga tagumpay ng bata at ang mga kamay rin ito ang nagdidisiplina kung suwail. Sa bawat untog at bawat dapa ipinipigil ni Cecilia ang sarili sa paglusong at tulungan ang anak sa pagtayo. Nakita niya ang pagtayo ulit nito at ang pagkapa sa bawat sulok ng kwarto. Ginamit ng bata ang mga kamay upang makakita at bigyan ng mukha ang bawat paligid. Dumapo ang isang ngiti sa kanyang labi napawi ang dalamhati.

Tinuruan ni Cecilia ang sarili gumamit ng sign language para mapalitan ang kanyang nawalang boses at pandinig. Pinalitan niya ang kanyang pamamaraan ng pagtulong kay Carlos dahil kakaiba ang sitwasyon nilang dalawa sa pangkaraniwang tao. Tinatrato niya itong batang may mata at iniisip niya na mayroon pa siyang boses at pandinig. Ngayon hindi na siya sigurado sa kanyang sarili.

Ngayon panibagong simula ang kanyang nadatnan ngunit naroon ang anino ng mga lumipas. Ang patay niyang asawa at ang kanilang mga kapinsanan. Nangangamba ang kanyang bawat hakbang, puno ng alangan ang nakikita, naglalaban ang takot at saya sa kanyang damdamin tuwing nakakatayong mag-isa si Carlos. Dahan-dahan siyang lumapit sa bata pinagmasdan ang bawat pagbangon at pagbagsak. Gusto niyang iladlad ang kamay para rito ngunit marunong na ang bata maglakad mag-isa. Nandoon na siya nanonood umaapaw ang mga salitang gusto niyang sabihin sa paligid. Gumuhit ang isang ngiti sa kanyang mga mata. Naramdaman ni Crlos ang mga gustong sabihin ng kanyang ina. Tumingin siya sa direksyon ng kanyang ina at ngumiti. ‘Nay nandiyan pala kayo, tara kain na po tayo.’

Sa mga lumipas na taon natutong magbasa si Carlos gamit ang braille marunong na siyang bihisan ang kanyang sarili at nagluluto na rin siya tuwing hapunan at tanghalian. Sanay na ang mag-ina sa kanilang sitwasyon at masayang namumuhay kasama ang isa’t isa.

Isang araw lumapit si Carlos sa kanyang inay at sinabi ‘nay gusto ko malibot ang mundo tulad ni itay. Gusto ko ulit maramdaman ang iba’t ibang lugar nang mundo tulad ng dati. Noong sumasayaw ang sari-saring kulay ng mundo nang magkuwento si itay tungkol sa Tsina. Sa mga munting panaginip na iyon nakakakita ako muli. Ang mga kulay ay bumabalik sa aking mga mata.’ Maiging pinagmasdan ni Cecilia ang bawat galaw ng labi ni Carlos upang maintindihan ang kanyang gustong sabihin. Dahan-dahang nilulon ni Cecilia ang bawat letra ng mga nagmamartsang pangungusap na lumalabas sa bibig ni Carlos. Hindi nakapagtanggi si Cecilia sa hiling ng anak. Hinagkan niya ng binata at hinalikan ang pisngi. Ito ang araw na kinakatakutan niya ngunit alam niyang dapat mangyari. Nagpaalam na ang anak sa sumunod na araw dala-dala ang kanyang tungkod at bagahe. Winagayway niya ang kanyang kamay sa direksyon ng ina at lumabas ng pinto. Kumalat ang tunog ng pagsara sa buong bahay ngunit hindi ito narinig ni Cecilia. Ipinigil niya ang mga luhang lumalabs sa kanyang mga mata at tumingin sa nakasarang pinto. Ang liwanag ng araw at asul ng mga ulap ay kumapit sa balat ni Carlos noong tumingin siya sa langit.

Naka-abot sa iba’t ibang sulok ng mundo si Carlos. Narinig niya ang mga kantahan at sayawan ng Indya. Tumatak sa kanyang dila ang mga maanghang nitong mga pagkain. Iginuhit ng araw at nang mga kwento ng kanyang ama ang bawat dingding, pader at pintura ng Taj Mahal sa kanyang mga bulag na mata. Ang mga anino ng gusali ay umukit sa kanyang mga kamay noong idinaan niya ang mga ito sa mga pader ng gusali. Nakinig siya ng maigi sa kasaysayan ng Indya ang nakaraan nito bago sinakop ng Britanya. Ang mayamang kultura at masaganang lupain ay nagdulot ng ngiti sa kanyang mga labi ngunit naramdaman niya sa kanyang puso ang isang pagkukulang na hindi mapupuno ng bansang ito.

Nagtungo siya sa Tsina upang ipagpatuloy ang kanyang lakbayin. Nakarating siya sa malamig na simoy ng hangin ng Tsina. Hinanap niya ang mga lugar na nabisita ng kanyang ama. Kinakarga ng ihip ng hangin ang kanyang mga panaginip sa tuktok ng Great Wall sa Tsina. Kinikioiti ng bawat sipol ang kanyang mga kamay. Ang mga dilaw na mukha ay unti-unting sumasalubong sa kanyang ala-ala. Nagkaroon ng kulay ang mga kwento ng kanyang itay noong naranasan na niya mismo ang Tsina. Ang mayaman nitong kasaysayan ay damang-dama sa bawat mamamayan. Kitang-kita ang katangi-tangi nitong kultura sa mga palabas ng martial arts at bawat pintura ng kalikasan. Ngunit wala ang puso niya sa bansang ito hindi napawi ang pagkukulang na naramdaman niya. Ang mga ala-ala ng kanyang ama ay walang kulay sa kanyang mga mata.

Nagtungo siya sa Amerika para ipagpatuloy ang kanyang paghahanap. Nagulat siya sa kanyang mga naranasan. Mayaman ang bansang ito sagana ang ekonomiya. Iba’t ibang lahi ang kanyang nakilala. Mayroong mga Intsik, Aprikano, Koreano, Pilipino, at iba pa. Nabisita niya ang mga malalaking gusali at magarbong shopping malls. Nakakilala siya ng mga magandang mga babae at nakilala ang ibang mga sikat na artista. Punong-puno ng saya ang mga nabuong ala-ala sa pagbisit sa Amerika tulad ng kanyang ama. Ngunit naroon pa rin ang uhaw sa knayang damdamin. Hindi niya maintindihan kung ano ang hinahanap ng kanyang kalooban. Nakamit na niya ang materyal na kasiyahan marami siyang kaibigan, magaganda ang kanyang mga damit, nakatira siya sa Amerika! Pangarap ng lahat ng mga Pilipino! Pero hindi napawi ang kanyang kalooban. Naalala niya ang kanyang kabataan noong buhay pa ang kanyang ama. Ang kasiyahan ng pamilya tuwing pag-uwi ni Ramon mula sa kanyang mga biyahe ay nanigas sa isipan niya. Bumalik sa kanyang ala-ala ang mga laruang eroplano. Ang pula, itim, dilaw at ang puti. Naghalo ang mga kulay sa kanyang bulag na mga mata. Sinubukan niyang hawakan ang mga ito ngunit nagising siya bago niya ito nahawakan. Kumislap sa kanyang isipan ang kanyang ina. Ang mga kamay na gumagabay sa kanya noong nabulag siya. Ang mga paghihirap na dinaanan nilang mag-ina. Sa mga natandaang ala-ala ninais niyang bumalik sa Pilipinas.

Dala-dala niya ang mga retrato ng mga bansang nabisita niya sa kanyang isipan. Ang mga amoy nito sa kanyang ilong ang pakiramdam sa kanyang mga kamay. Sa pagtapak sa kalye ng kanilang tirahan nakita ng kanyang mga mata ang kanyang kabataan. Ang maduming kalye tuwing naglalaro sila ng kanyang ama ng kanyang mga laruang eroplano. Ang pulang eroplanong lumilipad sa bughaw na langit. Ang dilaw na eroplano na kumikinang sa sinag ng araw. Ang itim na eroplanong sumasayaw sa kanyang mga kamay. At ang puting eroplano na bigay ng ama. Lumilipad ang puting eroplano sa maaliwalas na hangin ng Palawan kumikinang ang balat nito sa purong puting buhangin. Kumatok si Carlos sa pinto ng bahay. Bumukas ang pinto. Nakatayo si Cecilia sa gitna ng bahay.  Lumapit si Carlos at hinagkan ang ina. Nakita niya ang kayumangging mata, naramdaman ang malambot na balat. Humaplos ang itim na buhok sa kanyang mga pisngi. Walang mga salitang lumabas sa kanilang mga bibig hindi na kailangan. Naglabas siya ng pasalubong para sa kanyang ina. Kinuha niya ang kanyang bag at nilabas ang isang laruang erooplano na kulay asul. Itinabi niya ang bagong laruan sa itim, pula, dilaw, at puting mga eroplano. Tumingin siya sa labas ng bintana bumalik sa kanyang mga bulag na mata ang ala-ala ng mga nagtatagong bituin sa likod ng mga ulap at ang sinag ng maliwanag na araw. Nakauwi na siya.

Si Boy

Ako si Boy, isa akong batang kinse anyos. Naging Boy ang pangalan ko kasi yun ang tawag sakin noong bata pa ako. Hindi ko alam kung ano ang tunay kong pangalan basta yun lang yung alam kong pangalan at kinalakihan. Natagpuan ako ni Tay Erning sa ilalim ng tulay, duguan at nakabalot sa isang maruming kumot. Sabi niya sa akin malamang iniwan ka lang diyan ng kung sinong p—– i—- ayaw ng anak. Pero minsan tinutukso niya akong baka ang aking mga magulang ay isang puting nakabuntis ng isang pok-pok sa Olonggapo baka mayaman siya at hinahanap niya ako at paulanan ng libo-libong salapi tulad ni papi Willie. Lagi kaming nananaginip manirahan sa malaking mansyon na mayroong mga katulong na maghuhugas ng pwet ko at hindi lang palaging ako maghugas ng pwet ng ibang tao. Ninais naming makihalubilo sa mga artista at maging Kapamilya o Kapuso. Kahit saglit lang na panaginip makatikim man lang ng buhay mayaman habang sumasakit ang aming tiyan na naghahanap ng pagkain.

Nakatira kami sa ilalim ng tulay sa iskwater area malapit sa Pasig ang bahay namin ay yari sa tagpi-tagping yero at kung ano-anong plywood na makita namin sa daan. (Sige magpunas muna kayo ng luha sa mukha bago ko ipagpatuloy ang aking istorya mahaba-haba pa ito at punong-puno ng drama). Ganito na nga lang ang aming bahay mayroong pa rin mga taong nagnanais nakawin sa amin ang mga tagpi-tagping yero upang maibenta sa Junk Shop ni Mang Custodio. Ang mga bwisit na magnanakaw na iyon ay mga batang tulad ko na paligoy-ligoy lamang sa daan at ikinupkop ng mga sindikatong nagpapakain sa kanila. (Pambihirang buhay ito oh, pag hindi ka manggamit ikaw mismo ang magagamit. Punyeta! Basta kahit sinong taong magpakita ng konting kabutihan sa iyo susunod ka na parang tuta, magbubulag-bulagan ka muna at maghihintay ng panahon para kumagat at ikaw naman ang manggagago. Pero kung isip dukha ka malamang hindi mo iyon gagawin, magmamakaawa ka muna gamit ang iyong mga maladramang kwento at ang iyong mga luha. Puta! Kung tutuusin pare-pareho lang lahat yan pagnagpa-abuso ka aabusuhin ka talaga may Diyos man iyan o wala, maniwala kayo sakin! Pagbinigyan mo iyan ng pagkakataon mang-abuso aabusuhin ka niyan. Gagamitan ka ng mala-anghel na ngiti at mabuting pakikitungo! Paumanhin po sa mga mambabasa kailangan ko lang maisabi iyon dahil marami na akong nadaanan sa buhay at nagkukwento lang ulit).

Walang asawa si Tay Erning ako na ang itinuring niyang pamilya kasi magkatulad kaming dalawa mga batang inabanduna. Tumitinag ang kanyang maitim na balat sa liwanag ng buwan. Ang kanyang hapong mga braso ay payat ngunit malakas dahil sa hirap ng buhay. Trenta-sais taong gulang pa lang si Tay Erning ngunit mukha na siyang doble ng kanyang edad. May taglay na ningning ang mga mata ni Tay Erning kahit alam niyang maraming masamang nangyari sa kanya. Gabi-gabi lagi siyang may kasamang iba’t ibang babae, iba-iba ang kanilang mga edad minsan matanda minsan bata. Hindi nga ako sigurado kung babae o lalaki yung iba dun eh basta mayroon siyang kustomer palagi. Ito ang ginagawa niya tuwing gabi para dagdag kita upang mabayaran yung five-six niya at para matustusan ang aking pag-aaral. Kinailangan niyang gawin ito dahil hindi sapat ang kita ng isang kargador.

Mga magbubukid ang Nay Nena at Tay Teodoro niya bago nila dinala ang anak nila sa Maynila para gumanda ang buhay. Mahirap sa probinsya, yung lupang inaararo mo at tinataniman ay hindi sa iyo kundi sa isang mayaman na kumupkop ng lupa noong panahon pa ng mga Espanyol. Bawat tulo ng pawis at pagdanak ng dugo ay pag-aari ng ibang tao. Sumuko na sina Nay Nena at Tay Teodoro, umalis na lang ng walang pahintulot. Sumulong sa Maynila walang pinag-aralan, hindi marunong magbasa at magsulat. (Mahilig magkwento si Tay Erning lalo na kung nakaubos na siya ng isang bote ng gin). Naloko ni Mang Custodio, pinaupahan ng bahay at pinapirma ng kontrata. Si Mang Custodio lang kasi ang nagmabuting loob na tulungan sila pagdating nila mula probinsya. Binigyan ng trabaho si Tay Teodoro bilang magbobote at tagakolekta ng mga bakal para sa kanyang junk shop. Si Nay Nena naman naging isang mananahi sa sa Tailoring Shop ni Mang Custodio. Nakatali silang dalawa sa hintuturo ng tusong si Mang Custodio. Hindi nila alam halos lahat ng kinikita nila ipinapambayad nila ng utang sa bahay na pinaupa sa kanila at sa five-six na nakakontrata sa kanila. “Utang na loob daw” sabi nilang dalawa kay Tay Erning.

Noong nagkasakit si Tay Teodoro lalo pa silang nalugmok sa utang. Isang araw dumating siya ng bahay umuubo ng malakas at walang humpay. Bumagsak na lang siya ng basta-basta tumatahol parang aso. Pagdating sa ospital umuubo na siya ng dugo. Hindi siya ginamot ng mga doktor kasi kulang raw ang pambayad niya. Kahit napa-utang na ni Mang Custodio kinulang pa rin. Sinabi sa akin ni Tay Erning kaya pang pautangin ng mas malaking halaga sina Tay Teodor ngunit hindi pa nababayaran ang naunang mga inutang. Pinauwi siya ng doktor kahit nakita na ang kanyang kondisyon. Sinasabi ng kanyang mga mata marami pang ibang pasyente dito na magbabayad sila na muna bago ikaw. Umutang sila ulit kay Mang Custodio para naman sa albularyo na manggagamot kay Tay Teodoro. Hindi na siya gumaling simula noon unti-unti na siyang nanghina at nawalan ng lakas. Ang kanyang payat na katawan ay lalong pumayat at tuluyan ng binawian ng buhay. Pagkatapos ng ilang araw nawalan na nang gana sa buhay si Nay Nena sumunod na siya kay Tay Teodoro. Siyam na taong gulang pa lang noon si Tay Erning. Kinailangan niyang itigil ang pag-aaral dahil sinisingil pa rin siya ni Mang Custodio sa mga utang na hindi pa nababayaran ng kanyang mga magulang. Walang kumupkop sa kanya dahil wala siyang mga kamag-anak na nakatira sa Maynila. Nagtrabaho siya simula noon hanggang ngayon sa ilalim ni Mang Custodio. Nagbubuhat ng sako ng bigas at nagbebenta ng katawan, akala ni Tay Erning hindi ko iyon alam pero mabilis kumalat ang balita sa loob ng isang iskwater. (Hindi ko maintindihan kung bakit ang mga masasamang tao ay hindi namamatay. Matagal ng buhay si Mang Custodio sa kanyang paninigarilyo at toma ng beer ni hindi man siya nagkasakit at naiospital! Pero ganun lang talaga ang buhay para sa mga maralita nagbabayad ng utang at ng utang na loob!).

Hindi niyo lang alam mayroon talagang mga magnanakaw, rapist, mamamatay tao, lasinggero at kung ano-ano pang klaseng masamang tao na nakatago sa aming lugar. Alam ng mga kapitbahay ngunit hindi sila nagsasabi hindi dahil takot sila kundi mabait naman ang mga ito sa kanilang mga pamilya. Mayroon silang sariling mga trabaho at hanapbuhay mabuti sila sa kanilang mga asawa at anak. Pinapaaral pa nga nila ang mga ito. Lagi mong maririnig na para sa kanilang mga anak ang kanilang pagsisipag. Para na silang pamilya sa lugar namin nagtutulungan kung may nangangailangan. Daig pa nito ang mga mayayaman na mayroon na ngang pamamaraan para makatulong sa kanilang pamilya at sa kapwa pero ganoon rin sila mga mandarambong, mga adik sa alak, babae, droga kung ano pa, wala silang pinagkaiba sa amin. Kung tutuusin mas masahol pa nga sila.

(Paumanhin lang po ulit gagamit lang ako ng C.R. ng sandali bago ko ipagpatuloy ang aking pang-Maalala Mo Kayang kwento).

(Nakaraos na ako sa wakas ipagpapatuloy ko na ang aking kwento). Hinahangaan ko si Tay Erning kasi nakatayo siya sa kanyang mga sariling paa. Hindi siya nagreklamo sa mga nangyari sa kanya wala siyang pinagbintangan. Lagi niyang sinasabi sa akin para sa iyo ito Boy ayokong matulad ka sa amin. “Wag kang tatanga-tanga, wag kang magpapaloko Boy.” Ang mga salitang iyon ang paulit-ulit niyang sinasabi sa akin lasing man siya o hindi. “Gamitin mo ang utak mo kasi iyan ang paraang makakatulong sa iyo para makaahon ng kahirapan.” Mabuting tao si Tay Erning palagay ko kung hindi lang siya namulat sa kahirapan isa na siyang pulitiko o negosyante. Tuso siyang dumiskarte at malakas ang hatak niya sa mga taong nasa paligid niya. Pagbumukas ang bibig niya para magsalita nakikinig ang mga tao. Bilib ako sa kanya kasi mananalig siya sa Diyos araw-araw siyang nagdadasal at pumupunta sa misa bawat Linggo. Isang beses sinundan namin siya ng magkakaibigan kasama ang isang kustomer. Umakyat sila sa isang bahay sa may Cubao iyong bugaw nagbabantay sa labas at binabayaran yung mga pulis na umiikot dun. Isang matandang babaeng kwarenta anyos ang bugaw. May dalawang mata tulad ng isang lamok at ang tunog ng pagtapak ng kanyang mga paa ay tulad sa isang elepanteng kakadumi lamang. Ang kanyang matatabang braso ay kasing kapal ng sanga ng puno ng mangga. Naitatago ng liwanag ng dilim ang kanyang maitim na balat.

Binayaran namin siya upang masundan si Tay Erning sa katabing kwarto at panoorin siyang magdasal sa kanyang altar. Paakyat sa mga hagdan may nakita kaming taong pamilyar. Ang kanyang anino ay nagmistulang aswang sa pagkagat ng dilim. Nakikita namin siya sa TV tuwing hapon kasama ng mga magagandang babaeng halos hubad na sumasayaw. Hindi niya kami pinansin pero nakita namin ang mapanghusga niyang mata sa likod ng kanyang maitim na salamin. May kasama siyang dalawang babaeng nakakapit sa kanyang mga braso. (Lalake naman talaga o! Basta tungkol sa babae pare-parehong bisyo). Nakarating na kami sa tapat ng kwarto ni Tay Erning sa itaas ng pinto nakasulat ‘Basta Drayber Swit Laber’ sa mga matitingkad na kulay tulad ng bahaghari. Ito na ang kwartong nagmistulang simbahan ni Tay Erning. Tumungo kaming magkakaibigan sa katabing kwarto para magbigay pugay sa dakilang pari! Nakasilip kami sa isang butas at doon namin nakikita ang banal na pagdadasal ni Paring Erning. Naririnig namin ang mga hiyawan at pagsabong sa dilim ng liwanag. ‘Diyos ko! Diyos ko!’ kumakalat ang pagsabog ng mga salita sa hangin. Ang pag-agos ng mga mapulang salita ay unti-unting kinakain ang tahimik na nagtatago sa musiko ng gabi. Amen.

Noong aking kabataan mahilig kaming magkakaibigan maghanap ng mga gagamba sa mga sulok ng mga bahay at sa mga lumang kahong nagdidilaw sa kalumaan. Hawak namin sa aming maliit at maduming kamay ang nakakakiliting paa ng gagamba. Hinahanda namin ang barbekyu istik para sa sabong ng mga nahuli naming mga gagamba. Pinapanood namin ang malaking gagamba na paunti-unting pinapaikutan ang maliit na gagamba. Itinatago ng malaking gagamba ang halik ni Hudas sa kanyang mga pangil sa maliit na gagamba ngunit nakahanda na ang sapot upang mahuli ang walang malay. Sumugod ang maliit na gagamba diretso sa nakahandang sapot na nakausli sa ilalim ng istik. Nahuli ang walong paa sa sapot na nakatago nanigas ang gagamba naging yelo ang kanyang mga paa. Nananaginip lang ba ako noon? Hindi ko alam ngunit nakita kong nakangiti ang malaking gagamba habang papalapit sa kawawang maliit na gagamba. Nakalabas ang dalawang pangil na handang kumagat at kumain. Sa unang kagat ng gagamba hindi na gumalaw ang bihag unti-unti itong kinain at unti-unti rin naubos ang maliit na gagamba. Pinanood namin ito at may dumaang ngiti sa labi ng bawat isa. Natigil ang aming munting kasiyahan noong hinabol kami ni Aling Tinang palabas ng kanyang bakod. May hawak siyang walis tingting at pinagpapalo kami nito hanggang magsitakbuhan na kami. Hindi namin namalayan na nawala na ang istik na aming hawak kasama na rito ang gagambang nanalo. Noong nakaiwas na kami kay Aling Tinang nangolekta na ng pusta sa mga natalong nagtaya sa maliit na gagamba. Ang anak ni Mang Custodio na si Marlon ang nanguna mangolekta (bata pa magaling nang manggantso!).  Siya ang nakakuha ng pinakalamalaking halaga sa amin ang leon at ang kanyang mga kuting. Sa trenta pesos na naitaya nakakuha siya ng bente! Tapos dalawang piso lang ang nakuha namin limang magkakaibigan! Pumayag kaming lahat sa pagkahati-hati ng kwarta sabi niya kasi ililibre niya kami ng sorbetes at malamig na Coke sa pera niya…(Katangahan ba naman talaga bata pa lang tanga na sorbetes lang nagoyo na!). Nilibre nga kami ng sorbetes pero isa lang ang binili niya at isang bote ng Coke—pinaghati kaming limang magkakaibigan. “Itinupad ko naman yung sinabi ko diba?” sabi ni Marlon. (Ano ba naman ang magagawa ng bata sa edad na iyon?)

Sa pagsapit ng alas-otso ng umaga nagmamadali na akong pumunta sa eskwelahan nilagok ko na ang kapeng itinabi sa akin ni Tay Erning habang lumilipad papuntang pintuan. (Naaalala ko pa ang panahon na iyon parang isang lumang retrato sa likod ng aking mga panaginip. Kape araw-araw para sa almusal para mapawi ang gutom sa kalamnan. Isinasantabi ang ulam at kanin para sa hapunan at tanghali!). Lumilipad ang agos ng mga alikabok mula sa mga traysikel at yosing nag-aapoy sa umaga habang tumatakbo ako sa kalye tungo sa kaibigan kong si Tinoy. Lagi kaming sabay ni Tinoy pumunta sa Pasig Elementary School. (Nakikita ko ang sarili ko sa kanya tuwing naaalala ko ang aking kabataan). Ang kanyang pangong ilong at bilog na mga mata. Ang dagat ng kanyang mga mata na lubusan ng lalim nakikitang lumalangoy pataas ang gintong kayumanggi. Kulay lupa ang kanyang balat na nasunog sa ilalim ng sinag ng araw habang nagbebenta ng sampagita sa Marcos Highway. Malakas ang kanyang katawan kahit na payat ang kanyang mga bisig at binti. Dulot ito ng kakabuhat ng mga sako ng bigas na itinulong niya sa kanyang itay na si Kuya Jun. Isang kahig at isang tuka dito sa may amin. Kinse anyos pa lang may anak na at pamilya. Minsan hindi pa sila kasal kasi walang perang pambayad pero matibay ang kanilang pagsasama inaalagan nila ang kanilang mga asawa at anak. Araw-araw pa rin ang alak at sigarilyo ngunit lagi nilang inaasam ang mas mabuting kinabukasan para sa kanilang mga anak.

Nakita ko na si Tinoy sa labas ng pinto ng kanilang bahay isinigaw ko ang kanyang pangalan “Tinoy!!! Halika na maleleyt tayo ulit!” Nagmamadaling kumaripas sa labas ng pinto si Tinoy isinusuot ang kanyang unipormeng kasing puti ng Tide. Namudmod siya sa akin habang nakasulat sa hangin “sandali lang!” sa mga mapupulang letra, hindi niya ako nakita sa harapan niya. Tumayo kami agad at nagtawanan sa nangyari sa amin. Nadatnan namin si Marlon sa ilalim ng puno ng Sampaloc patungong paaralan. May hawak siyang bente pesos at ibinibigay kay Jhonalyn ang pinakamatalinong kaklase namin. Palagay namin binabayaran niya si Jhonalyn para gawin ang kanyang takdang-aralin sa matematika. Nagtinginan kaming dalawa ni Tinoy at biglang may sumapol na bato sa amin at naalala na mayroon rin kaming takdang aralin para sa Inggles. Umupo kami sa lumang lamesa sa labas ng aming silid-aralan. Nangingitim na ang puting pintura ng mga dingding nito at walang pintuan ang bawat dulo ng kwarto. Siksikan ang mga mag-aaral sa loob ng silid mahigit kumulang lampas animnapu kaming nagsisiksikan sa loob. Parang mga surot sa loob ng isang malaking basurahan. Walang mga bentilador at ang iba naming kaklase ay nakaupo sa likod na walang mga silya. Ang kanilang mga maruming uniporme ay umaagos sa aming mga mata at naglalaho sa pag-ihip ng hangin.

Hindi pa naman dumarating ang aming guro sa Inggles na si Mr. Sanchez. Nagmadali kaming nagsulat sa aming mga kwaderno kahit barok at maling pagbaybay ng mga pangungusap. Halos masunog na ang aming mga papel sa bilis ng pagtakbo ng mga letra na lumalabas sa aming mga kamay. Nadatnan namin siya na papalapit sa silid ang usok ng kanyang Marlboro Lights ay huminto sa kanyang mukha at tuluyan niyang inihagis ang sigarilyo sa tabi. Ang kanyang balbas saradong mukha at malaking salamin ay naitato sa aming mga utak. Kumaripas ang aming mga paa papasok sa kwarto. Sumiksik kaming magkaibigan sa isang sulok malapit sa gitna upang makahagilap kahit papaano sa turo ng guro. Marami kaming mga magkaklase sa loob ng silid ngunit kokonti lang ang nakakarinig sa turo dahil sobra dami namin sa loob. Ang iba namin kaklase hindi na nakikinig dahil wala naman silang matututunan wala rin naman pakialam si Mr. Sanchez. Isang manyikang gumagamit ng boses ng libro ang istilo ng pagturo niya. Nagtatalumpati ang guro gamit ang salita sa libro ngunit ang libro mismo ay luma at mali-maling impormasyon ang nakalagay. Ang salitang ‘shadow’ ay ibinaybay bilang ‘syadow’ ipinanganak si Jose Rizal sa petsang ika-19 ng Hulyo 1871! Ang librong hindi nakapasa sa mga pribadong mga paaralan ibinibigay sa mga pampublikong paaralan hindi naman nila malalaman ito. (Ganoon talaga ang buhay namin noong panahon na iyon hindi ko alam kung anong mga posibilidad mayroon para sa akin! Hindi ko pansin na inaapi na pala ako at ang aking mga kaibigan. Pambihira iyan puro pangako na lang! Basta panatiliin mong tanga ang mahihirap magagamit mo sila! Kasi kahit anong ibigay mo diyan maniniwala na iyan kasi hindi pa nila naiaako ang kanilang sarili wala silang kakayahan magdesisyon ng tama na nauukol sa kanilang sarili at sa kapwa nila. Ganoon ako mag-isip noon! Salamat na lang sa Diyos na nakaalis ako sa kadiliman!).

Habang nagsasalita si Mr. Sanchez ang iba kong kaklase ay nagkakara-cruz sa labas ng silid at nagtataya sa mga kanilang sabong ng mga gagamba. Ang iba naman ay nakatunganga na lang sa bandang likod at nananaginip ng kanilang papanoorin sa telebisyon mamaya. Ang iba naman isang linggo lang pumasok at tumigil na sa pag-aaral tulad ni Timo at ang kababata kong si Anton. Nagtrabaho na lamang sila bilang mga basurero at naglilimos sa kalye upang mapakain ang kanilang mga maliliit na kapatid. Kulang raw kasi ang kita ng kanilang mga itay at inay. Sabi ng magulang nila wala silang mapapala sa klase kasi ang itay nila nagtapos ng hayskul pero isip niya elementarya pa rin! ‘Magtrabaho na lang kayo!’ nakasulat sa langit sa mga malalaking letrang itim. (Paumanhin po ulit may sasagutin akong tawag mula sa ibang bansa ukol sa aking negosyo itutuloy ko ang aking kwento pagkatapos nito hintay po lamang).

(Pambihirang mga intsik na iyan! Oo ng oo pero hindi naman pala sigurado talaga sa sagot na ibinigay. Marami pang pakipot at pasikot-sikot sa pagnenegosyo. Kailangan ligawan at palambutin ang puso bago magbigay ng diretsong sagot. Di bale ipagpapatuloy ko na lang ang aking kwento).

Natututo akong magbasa at magsulat sa tulong ng isang madre sa ngalang Sister Stella. (Napag-initan siya ng kanyang mga magulang sa pagbigay sa kanya ng pangalan paborito nilang dalawa ang artistang si Vilma Santos at ninais rin nilang dalawa na magmadre ang kaisa-isa nilang anak na babae). Mabait at matiyaga si Sister Stella sa aming dalawa ni Tinoy. Sumuko na kaming dalawa sa pagpasok sa eskwelahan dahil wala naman kaming natututunan. Pagkatapos magsalita ni Mr. Sanchez ng bente minutos nagrereklamo na siya ukol sa kanyang suweldo at kung gaano kasama ang lagay ng pamilya niya. Minsan nagmamakaawa siya sa amin na bumili ng mga kwaderno sa kanya kasi nagugutom na ang kanyang mga anak. Sa gabing iyon nakita namin siya sa bahay ng mga puta.

Mataimtim ang aming pakikinig kay Sister Stella habang nagtuturo siya. Ang kanyang mga mabait na kamay at mala-anghel na boses ay paulit-ulit sumasayaw sa aming isip. Tinutunaw ng kanyang mga malambing na mata ang aming kaba pagnagkakamali kami sa aming mga aralin. Ginagabayan ng kanyang boses ang aming mga kamay habang isinusulat namin ang mga letra ng abakada. Maraming libro ang naipabasa sa amin si Sister Stella isa na rito ang Noli Me Tangere ni Jose Rizal. Ipinuslit niya ito sa isang silid-aklatan sa kanilang simbahan at binigyan kami ni Tinoy ng tig-isang kopya. Lagi naming inuulit-ulit ang ‘Jungle Book’ ng tanyag na manunulat na si Rudyard Kipling na bigay ni Sister Stella ng isang Pasko. Natuklasan namin na malaki pala ang mundo sa labas ng mga pader ng aming imahinasyon. Nakalibot kami sa isang gubat sa mga mata ni Mowgli. Ang berde ng mga puno ay nagsisitalunan sa harapan namin at ang kahol ng tigre ay nangingilabot sa aming mga tenga. Ang mga lakbayin ni Mowgli ang nagmulat sa amin at ang walang limitasyon ng aming isip. Ibinuhay naman ni Jose Rizal ang aming mga puso ukol sa mga bagay ng pagmahal sa sariling bayan at nagmulat sa mga mata namin sa kalagayan ng mga maralita. Bilang pasasalamat sa kabutihang loob ni Sister Stella tumigil na kami ni Tinoy sa pagsugal sa sabong ng mga gagamba. Hindi na rin kami nangungupit sa bulsa ng mga taong dumadaan sa kalye namin. Tinuturuan namin ang aming mga kaibigan ukol sa mga natutunan sa mga librong nabasa. Ginagabayan ang mga maliliit na mga bata sa pagsulat at pagbasa. Mula sa maliit na pagtitipon dumami ang mga tenga na nakikinig kay Sister Stella. Ngunit hindi nagtagal ang masasayang araw at pagkanta ng mga bituin…

Sumisinag ang init ng araw habang umaawit ang hihip ng hangin sa pagdating ng tag-init. Umaarangkada na ang mga kantahan at piyesta. Ang mga lechon ay nagmamartsa tungo sa mga puso ng mga dalisay at marangya. Panahon ulit ng eleksyon. Dumalo sa aming distrito si Alkalde Garcia. Tumatakbo siya para sa kanyang ikalawang termino. Ang kanyang mga plataporma ay ukol sa edukasyon, disiplina, kaayusan, at katotohanan sa gobyerno. Nabighani ng kanyang malinis na Barong Tagalog at kumikislap na ngiti ang mga puso ng mga tao sa lugar namin. Bukod pa dito napanood namin siya sa telebisyon kasama ng idolo naming si papi Willie. Sumali siya sa larong hep-hep hooray kasama ng ibang mga pulitiko. Nakilaro rin siya sa pagsagot sa mga tanong ni papi Willie at nakipagkantahan at sayawan sa Wowowee. Nakabakat ang kanyang bungisngis sa mukha ng aming mga telebisyon. Madalas ang bisita niya sa simbahan ni Sister Stella may dala-dala siyang mga mamahalin na tsokolate at mga diamanteng bituing kumikislap sa labo ng dilim ng buwan. Bihira na ang pagsasama namin sa pagbabasa ng mga libro sa mga araw na madalas namin makita si Alkalde Garcia. Sa mga araw na iyon madalang namin makita si Sister Stella. Noong  lumipas ang paghingalo ng ulan at tadyak ng hangin sa isang Biyernes ng Hunyo bumisita kami sa Sacred Hope Parish kung saan siya nakatira. Ang mga alikabok ng panaginip at hikbi ng mga bulong ang naabutan namin.

Araw-araw nang umaalis sina Sister Stella at Alkalde Garcia pati ang mga kasama niyang pari at madre sa kumbento ay nag-aalala. Minsan hindi na siya umuuwi sa kumbento ng ilang araw at nagpapabaya sa kanyang mga obligasyon bilang madre. Maraming beses namin siyang nakitang may suot na mga bagong damit at mga kumikinang na alahas tuwing kasama niya si Alkalde Garcia. Iba na ang tingin niya sa amin. Nagmistulang mga anino kami sa kanyang likod at naglalaho sa pagsikat ng araw. Ang aming mga maruming damit at maitim na mga mukha ay nalulunod sa dagat ng kanyang mga maitim na mata. Hindi na kami tao sa kanya ngunit mga hayop na kinakailangang itali at alagaan. Napalitan ng madilim na diamante ang ningning ng kanyang mga mata. Naglaho ang lambot at lambing sa kanyang mga kamay na napalitan ng hinga ng yelo. (Nabibili pala lahat ng pera pati kabutihan may presyo na! Punyeta talagang buhay na ito!).

Ang imahe ni Sister Stella ay nagbago sa aming isipan kalahating-demonyo kalahating-anghel. Nagtago sa maitim na ulap ang kanyang mala-anghel na ugali at ang malambing na mga mata. Nagmistulang panaginip na gumising at kusang tumayo. Nag-ayos ng damit uminom ng mainit na kape at naglayas patungo sa ibang bansa.

Sa isang gabing tumigil ang tibok ng liwanag ng buwan at paghinga ng hanging habagat. Napanaginipan ko si Sister Stella na nasa loob ng Sacred Hope Parish. Kaharap niya ang mga paring mayroong mga mukhang kasing liwanag ng araw. Ang kanilang hiyawan at sigawan ay bumubulong sa aking mga tenga. Kumakaskas at kumakapit sa aking balat ang lahat ng kanilang mga sinsabi.

“BAKIT MO IPINAGPALIT ANG SERBISYO MO SA SIMBAHAN SA LALAKING IYAN?”

“NASILAWAN KA NA BA NG PERA?”

“HINDI MO BA ALAM NA GINAGAMIT KA LANG NIYAN???”

Umukit ang mga salitang lumilipad sa langit sa puti ng aking mga mata. Nakasulat ang kanilang mga salita sa mga malalking letrang itim na lumupasay sa malamig na sahig noong ihinagis ko ang kumot ng masamang panaginip. Nadama ko ang bawat sigaw na humahaplos sa aking malamig na pawis. Tumingin ako sa aking paligid at nakita ang munti naming bahay. Ang mga tagpi-tagping yero at lumang mga kahoy—isa lamang kathang-isip.

Nagkita kami ni Tinoy sa kanilang bahay inilahad ko sa kanya ang aking panaginip noong gabi. Nais naming patunayan na panaginip lamang iyon ngunit naramdaman ko sa aking puso na may bahid iyon ng katotohanan. Unti-unting kinakain ng aming mga hinala ang marikit na lupa patungo sa simbahan. Lumilipad ang aming mga isipan sa lawak ng bughaw ng langit at natutunaw pagdatnan ng araw. Walang itsura ang mga mukhang nadadaanan namin at nababasa ng kanilang mabagal na hinga ang malagkit na hangin.

Nakarating na kami sa simbahan sinubo ng tahimik ang paglunok naming dalawa ni Tinoy ng aming mga laway. Ang mainit na ihip ng hangin ay sumabit sa amingmga basang kili-kili. Tinanong namin kay Padre Reynaldo kung saan si Sister Stella. Ang mga salitang lumabas sa kanyang dila ay sumasayaw sa aming tenga at nanatili doon hanggang sa huling titik ng kanyang balita. Unti-unting sumiksik sa aming damdamin parang mga langgam na pumupuslit ng pagkain—na wala na talaga siya rito. Kagabi siya umalis sa oras ng aking panaginip. Hindi naging madali para sa aming dalawa ni Tinoy noong narinig namin ang balita ilang araw hindi dumalaw ang tulog sa akin. Naroon siya sa isang marupok na lalawigan sa probinsya nagtatanim ng mga pangarap ng mga batang walang kinabukasan…

Tumigil ang pag-ikot ng mga araw para sa akin sa puntong iyon. Nakasabit sa anino ng araw ang mga librong ibinigay sa amin ni Sister Stella. Ang kanyang maputing mukha ay lumalabo ng lumalabo sa aking paningin. Ang mga pangarap na makamit ang isang mabuting buhay bunga ng edukasyon ay nagtago sa sulok ng aking pag-iisip.

(Sige paumahin ulit at iinom lang ako ng tubig kasi ba naman ang haba-haba na ng aking pagkwento natutuyo na ang aking lalamunan. Magmuni na rin kayo sa mga nangyari sa aking kabataan tutal gusto niyo naman maawa sa aking kalagayan at kunwaring magtulong sa mahirap ngunit para sa iyo lamang iyon hehe. Joke lang friends pa rin tayo ah.)

Nawalan ako ng gana magbasa at mag-aral pira-pirasong binawi ng mga librong nabasa ko ang berdeng gubat sa Jungle Book at ang mga lakbayin sa Europa ni Simoun. Sa bawat hithit ng sigarilyo at langhap ng isang bote ng rugby umiikot ang ulop ko at naaalala ang boses ni Sister Stella na bumubulong sa akin. Hindi ko na rin naririnig ang boses ni Tay Erning na nag-aalala dahil nakikita na niya ang sarili niya sa akin. Nalulong ako sa bisyo sa mga madilim na araw na iyon. Nawalan ako ng pag-asa sa buhay sinakyan ko na lang ang lahat ng mga bagay na mangyari sa akin. Mabilis ang paglipas ng mga taong iyon ng aking kabataan. Sa paglusob ng usok sa aking mga baga hanggang sa kulay ng mga babaeng humaharurot sa mga mata namin sa bahay ng bugaw na si Aling Turing. Naiwan ang retrato ni Sister Stella sa likod ng maitim na kurtina sa aking ulap ng mga pagmumuni-muni. (Siya na ang pinakamalapit na larawan ng isang inay sa buhay ko. O Diyos bakit mo kinuha siya sa aking piling! Sa panahong iyon hindi ko napansin ang aking pagkabinata parang pagkagising ko sa isang mapulang araw ng Marso bente anyos na ako! Balbas sarado at malaki ang mga masel sa pagkargador sa palengke. Isang malabnaw na panaginip lamang ang aking pagkabata.)

Naghanap ako ng trabaho sa mga sari-saring negosyo ni Mang Custodio. Madali lang siguro iyon sinabi ko sa sarili ko kasi naman ang mga lola’t lolo ko pati tatay sa kanya nagtrabaho. Nasagot nga ang tanong ko ginawa akong messenger at drayber sa ilalim ni Marlon. Napili ako ni Marlon dahil magkakilala na kami sa aming pagkabata. Alam niyang alam ko ang kanyang mga katarantaduhan. Madali sa kanya magtago at mangupit sa kanyang itay kung ako ang kasama niya. Pabalik-balik ako sa iba’t ibang baryo at siyudad sa Maynila gamit ang itim na Toyota ni Marlon. Unang beses ko iyon nakalabas ng lubusan sa aming maliit na lugar sa Pasig. Minsan kung mangiinis lang siya pinapagamit niya sa akin ang kanyang bisikleta na mayroong maliit na batingaw at ipapagbiyahe niya ako sa Ongpin para singilin ang mga Intsik na negosyante. Ang malalaking gusali na mistulang mga higante sa aking mga mata. Lumalangoy sa aking lalamunan ang iba’t ibang klaseng pagkain na pinakain sa akin ni Marlon. Kahit sabihin natin na hiwalay ako kumain sa kanya at ang kanyang mga girlfriend di hamak mas masarap pa rin ang pagkaing iyon kaysa sa karinderya ni Aling Josephine!

Si Marlon ang inuutusan ni Mang Custodio na kumausap sa mga kasama niya sa negosyo at alagaan ang iba’t iba niyang negosyo. Malayo ang narating ni Mang Custodio mula sa isang Junk Shop sa may amin. (Siyempre sa laki ba naman ng kita niya sa five six at panggantso hindi ba siya yayaman? Tuso si Mang Custodio sa kanyang negosyo hindi siya naging magastos kahit mabisyo siya. Mayroon siyang mga babae ngunit kaunti lamang ang mga ito at sandali ang relasyon. Magkabaliktad sila ng anak mahilig sa chicks si Marlon kaya madalas may butas ang bulsa! Di bale patuloy na lang sa kuwento.) Mula sa isang junk shop dumami ang mga junk shop na pag-aari ni Mang Custodio ang sabi sa akin ni Marlon noong nag-inuman kaming dalawa pagkatapos bayaran ang isang pulitiko para makakuha sila ng titulo sa lupang nagustuhan nila. Dalawa sa Pasig at tatlo naman sa Maynila sa mga iskwater area pa rin yung mga iyon ang dagdag niya. (Mahilig magkwento iyang si Marlon pagnaka-ilang shot na ng gin. Mga ala-ala na lang ang hawak ko sa kanya. Nakikita ko ang repleksyon niya sa bote ng Fundador tuwing may tama na ako.)

Sa pagdaloy ng salapi sa kanyang bulsa nakapagtayo ng mga bahay-puta at mga beerhouse sina Mang Custodio. (Siyempre iyon naman ang industriyang hindi mawawalan ng mga kustomer…) Mula rito nakabili siya ng mga lupa sa mga may utang sa kanya sa maliit na halaga. Nagpatayo siya ng mga apartment at mga condominium binibigyan niya ng libreng tirahan ang mga pulitiko at mayayamang mga negosyante na kasosyo niya kung nais nilang magbakasyon pero sa ibang mga kustomer halos doble ang bayad! Mabilis ang paglago ng yaman ni Mang Custodio limang taon lang ako sa ilalim niya nangyari na ang lahat na ito. (Mabilis makakuha ng pera basta kilala mo yung mga tamang tao at magaling kang-manggantso!) Sa pabalik-balik ko sa Ongpin at sa Maynila bilang isang drayber/messenger hindi ko mapigilang marinig ang kanyang mga kausap sa kanyang celphone o kaya kasama niya mismo sa kotse. Malaking halaga pala na umaabot sa milyones ang dinadala ni Marlon tuwing binibisita niya ang kanilang mga kasosyo. (Tutal ano ba naman ang magaagwa ng isang maralitang katulad ko na walang alam at inabanduna ng sariling magulang diba naman? Ang aking naka-ngiting mukha ay nalinlang ang kanilang pag-iisip na wala akong pakialam sa pinag-uusapan nila. Iyon ang nagustuhan nila sa akin lagi kasi ako naka-ngiti. Lumulusot ang kanilang mga bulong sa butas ng aking mga tenga at marami akong natutunan sa negosyo nila at ang mga pasikot-sikot ng mga ito. Tingnan mo ba naman pati pala ang boss mo may boss na sinisipsipan. Iyong mas maraming pera laging nasa itaas!)

Patuloy ang pagkupit ni Marlon sa kanyang ama at paghingi ng dagdag sa mga kliyente nila. Pinagmamasdan ko kung paano niya ito ginagawa tulad ng isang bata na nanonood sa kanyang mga magulang. Tuso iyong si Marlon hindi gaano malaki ang halagang kinukuha niya maiwasan ang pagkatuklas. Paonti-onti ngunit palagi ito ginagawa. Nagwiwithdraw at gumagawa ng imbentong resibo para sa mga binibili. Minsan ako pa ang inuutusan niya para hindi siya mahalata. (Si gago hindi pansin niloloko ko rin siya.) Pero minsan mabait iyang si Marlon ang sobra niya binibigay niya pagkain para sa amin ni Tay Erning. (Siyempre maliit iyon kumpara sa nakuha niya.)

Naka-ahon na kami ni Tay Erning sa maliit naming bahay sa ilalim ng tulay. Matagal-tagal na rin kami naghahanap ng bagong tirahan. Sa suweldo ko bilang drayber, messenger at sa nakukuha ko kay Marlon nakalipat kami sa isang apartment house na mayroong kusina at banyo. Mahusay magpasuweldo sina Mang Custodio kung napagkakatiwalaan ka nila. (Sa panahong iyon akala ko malaki na suweldo ko ngunit katiting lang iyon sa nakukuha nila Marlon at Mang Custodio. Ang dami nang nakuha sa akin at sa pamilya ko…Iyong maliliit na bagay na iyon mula noong bata ako nagpatong-patong.) Mabait sila sa kanilang mga charity lagi kong naririnig iyon kay Marlon kailangan nila magbigay. (Pambayad kasalanan siguro.) Nakikita ko mula sa maitim na salamin ng Toyota na tuwang-tuwa ang mga madreng nakakatanggap ng pera at regalo para sa mga bata. Hinid ko mapigilan humagikgik sa loob ng kotse. Ang masaklap na pagkatuwa sa loob ng baga ko sumingaw palabas. Ano ba naman ito? Ganoon na ba ako kawalang pakiramdam? Sa likod ng hangin ng ilusyon nakikita ko siya. Si Marlon. Ang maruming polo at maitim na mukha sa loob ng barong kasingputi ng langit. Ako rin ba ganoon na? Manhid. Natatawa na lang. O baka totoo ang nararamdaman nilang kabutihan? Hindi na ako sigurado.

Unti-unti nang nagkakasakit si Tay Erning. Tuluyan nang bumigay ang kanyang katawan dahil sa trabaho at bisyo. Nawawala na ang ningning sa kanyang mata na nakikita ko noong bata pa ako. Ang kanyan gmga braso ay parang lantang sanga ng puno na wala nang lakas. Ang payat ng kanyang katawan ay kumakalansing sa ihip ng malamig na hangin. Halos maubos ang pera kong naiipon at sinusuweldo sa labas-pasok ni Tay Erning sa ospital at sa pagbili ng gamot. Hindi ko maintindihan ngunit hindi pa bayad ang utang ni Tay kay Mang Custodio. Patuloy-tuloy ang pagpatong ng utang namin sa kanya dahil sa five-six. Ngayon na may sakit pa si Tay mas lalo kami na agrabiyado. Nalulunod ang gabi sa kanyang mga tahol ng ubo at yanig ng kanyang katawan.

(Muntik ko nang makalimutan ikwento sa inyo na mayroon na akong pangalan sa wakas! Dalawa pa nga eh haha. Hindi na Boy ang pangalan ko ngunit palayaw ko pa rin ito may pangalan na rin ako! Sa wakas tagumpay para sa maralitang katulad ko! Haaaaayyyy…ang pera kahit ano pwede bilhin kahit ang isang identidad basta may papel at signatura ayos na ang lahat.)

Ang una kong pangalan na nakuha ay Jesus Nazareno. Nagula ako noong ibinigay sa akin ito ni Marlon. Tiningnan ko ang bawat sulok ng papel kung totoo ba ito. Naramdaman ko ang tusok ng sulok ng papeles na nagbibigay sa akin ng pangalan. Nagmistulang komedya ang tingin ko rito at kinulit ko nang kinulit si Marlon kung totoo ba ito. Natawa na lamang siya at tiningnan ako sa mata sinasabing oo totoo iyan.  Huwag ka na magreklamo dagdag niya. Matuwa ka may pangalan ka na hindi na lang Boy ang tawag sa iyo.

(Iyan ang munting istoryang pangtelebisyon ng aking pangalan. Ngunit sa ngayon hindi ko na siya ginagamit sa mga ilalahad ko sa inyo sa sunod na parte ng kwento ko.)

Isang gabi nagkita kami ni Tinoy sa carinderia ni Aling Sela. Hindi nagbago si Tinoy ganoon pa rin siya sa aking alaala. Lumaki ang kanyang mga bisig at tumubo ang balbas sa kanyang mukha ngunit nandoon pa rin ang batang kasama ko maglaro ng mga gagamba. Nagtagay kami ng Ginebra gin para uminit ang aming katawan at magladlad ng buhok sa lumipas na trabaho. Natuklasan kong mayroon na palang asawa si Tinoy. Mayroon silang anak na lalaki na si Anton. Naglabas siya ng isang retratong kasing laki ng maliit na kalendaryo. Marumi ito at mukhang pinaglumaan ng oras at pawis sa trabaho. Ang tatlong mukha ay todo ang ngiti at kinang ng mga mata sa likod ng munting bahay sa retrato. Simple ang kanyang asawang si Josephine. Ang kanyang maliit na ngiti ay iginuhit sa kanyang kayumangging mukha. Ang kanyang mga tsokolateng mata ay hugis mani. Si Anton ay nagmistulang maliit na Tinoy. Ang kanyang putting ngiti ay lumalampas sa sulok ng retrato. Masaya makakita ng ganitong mga munting ligaya mula sa isang maruming mundo. Binalik ko ang kanyang retrato sa kanya at napuno ang dilim sa aming tawanan at apaw ng gin sa mga bibig namin.

Sa pagkagising ko sa sunod na araw kumakatok sa ulo ko ang sakit ng gin at ang simpleng buhay ni Tinoy. Nagmuni-muni ako na tigilan ang lahat ng kalokohang ito at mag-asawa’t anak. Ngunit natanto ng aking mga mata ang masaklap na kalagayan ng aking ama. Nahapo at nagkasakit ang kanyang katawan sa pagbayad ng utang ng kanyang mga magulang. Gusto ko ba ito mangyari sa akin? Paikot-ikot ang tanong na ito sa aking isipan at mga panaginip. Kumakatok sa aking isipan na pabayaan ang aking ama sa kanyang sakit. Lamunin siya ng kamatayan para mawakasan na ang aking pagdurusa. Sa pagpikit ng aking mga mata hindi ko man ginusto tinatamasa ng aking kaluluwa na makaalis sa lugar na ito. Makamit ang simpleng buhay tulad ni Tinoy. Ngunit lagi akong nadadala ng pangangailangan at utang na loob. Nalunod ako sa dagat ng pagiisip at binisita na ako ng tulog.

Sa pagkagising ng araw patuloy ang kayod bilang drayber para sa dalawang kumag na boss. Hindi ko maintindihan kung paano ko ito napagpatuloy minsan nakakalimutan ko na kung bakit ko ito ginagawa. Pera ba? Mas mabuting buhay? Hindi na ako sigurado. Basta kumukulo na ang dugo ko sa mga taong ito. Lahat na lang ng bagay nakuha nila sa akin. Tuwing nakikita ko na may kasamang babae si Marlon nasusuka na ako hindi tulad ng dati nagtatapon pa ako ng tingin sa likod sa tuwa. Humihigpit ang hawak ko sa manibela at unti-unting umuulan ang pawis ko sa aking paningin.

Araw-araw kong pinagtiyagaan ang pagbayad sa mga pulitiko at mga negosyante para maka-angat sila Marlon ngunit paano na ang para sa akin? Ang parte ko? Paikot-ikot na lang ba ang mundo at patuloy akong maaapi? Akala ko sapat na ang nakukuha kong salapi at nakabili pa kami ng magandang apartment house. Pero napansin kong unti-unti nilang hinihigop ang aking buhay hanggang sa wala nang matira rito. Malapit na ako sa aking hangganan. (Sa aking pagkaalala itinigil ko na ang aking pagkukupit sa gabing iyon.)

Isang gabi na nagkatuwaan si Marlon at ang kanyang kliyenteng pulitiko naka-alis kami sa nightclub ng ala-una ng umaga. May dala-dalang dalawang babae si Marlon sa paglabas niya. Kung tutuusin pangit iyong dalawang babaeng kasama niya sa sobrang kalasingan niya kung kani-kanino na siya pumapatol. Pareho silang iisa ang kilay at makapal parang higad. Sungki-sungki ang ngipin at pango ang ilong parang napisat na melon. Sabi nga nila walang pangit sa dilim pati na rin paglasing.

Nasa mood ngayon si Marlon para sa kantahan at kalokohan. Ipinabukas niya ang mga bintana at pinalakas ang radyo sa nakakabinging tunog. Ang kanta ng Air Supply ay sumasayaw sa malamig na hangin. Sa tindi ng kanilang katuwaan inutusan ako ni Marlon na ibigay iyong manibela sa isa sa mga pangit na kasama niya. Nagpreno ako ng madalian at nag-umpugan ang dalawang pangit. Itinago ko ang aking ngiti sa anino ng gabi.  Tinabihan ni Marlon ang pangit na nasa manibela at umupo ako sa likod kasama ang tsonggo. Pasikot-sikot ang kotse sa malabong mata ng babaeng nasa manibela. Ang kanilang tawanan at ang tugtug ng Air Supply ay kumakapit sa aking tenga. May biglang dumaan na anino sa harap ng kotse.

Nagsigawaan ang mga tao sa loob ng kotse wala ng katuwaan at hagikgikan. Basag ang windshield ng Toyota napinturahan ng pulang dugo. Nalamon ng pagbagsak ng lumpong katawan sa kalsada ang buong gabi. Lahat ng bagay ay biglang bumagal sa aking paningin. Ang pagtayo ni Marlon sa kanyang upuan upang makita kung ano nangyari. Ang dahan-dahan na pagtulo ng luha sa pisngi ng dalawang babae. Nagmadaling pumasok sa kotse si Marlon at uminom ng isang lagok ng gin at tumingin sa akin. Halika sa labas ang sabi niya sa akin. Ang mga salitang ito ay dahan-dahan nagmartsa sa aking tenga at unti-unting kumapit at bumuo ng mga pangungusap. Naghahanda na ng ulan ang langit na nagingitim. Hindi ako makapaniwala sa aking nakita. Ang mapulang mukha ni Tinoy at ang kanyang mga bali-baling buto ay natato sa aking mga mata. Inutusan ako ni Marlon na kaladkarin ang katawang nanlalamig ni Tinoy sa bangin. Kumulo ang aking dugo nanigas ang aking mga daliri nanlabo ang aking mga mata. Lahat ba ng kasiyahan sa buhay ko kukunin sa akin? Bumuhos ang ulan. Sa isang idlap nasa leeg na ni Marlon ang aking mga kamay. Hindi ko na siya marinig umaapaw ang aking galit kaya nagmistulang bingi na ako. Nasuntok niya ako sa aking maselang bahagi nabitawan ko siya at gumulong ako sa kalsada. Naglabas siya ng baril kumasa at itinutok sa akin. Punyeta ka! Anong ginagawa mo ha? Ang laki ng itinulong namin sa iyo tapos iyan ang ipapalit mo ha? Hinampas ako ng baril sa likuran. Tinadyakan ang aking tagiliran. Wala kang utang na loob! Ipinaputok niya iyong baril at nagmintis. Lasing pa si gago wala siyang makita. Kinasa niya ulit ang baril at itinutok ulit sa akin. Hindi ko alam kung bakit naninigas ang aking mga braso at binti nanatili ako sa aking pwesto. Nanginginig ang baril at dahan-dahan na tumutok sa akin. Sa biglang sandali natumba siya at nabitiwan ang baril tumilapon ito sa kalsada. Iyong isang pokpok ay isinagip ako at itinulak si Marlon. May silbi rin pala ang mga pangit.

Gumapang ako tungo sa baril na nakalupasay sa kalsada habang nagaa-away si Marlon at ang pok-pok. Patuloy ang pag-iyak ng gabi at huni ng kidlat. Nakuha ko na ang baril. Naihagis ni Marlon ang pok-pok sa bangin bago ko nakasa at naitutok ang baril sa kanya. Bago siya nakapagsalita napaputok ko na ang baril at tinamaan siya sa kanang balikat. Pumulupot siya sa sakit at minimura ang kalangitan. Hinanda ko ang sarili ko para tapusin na ang dapat tapusin. Lahat ng pagdurusang dinaanan ko at ang lahat ng nanakaw sa akin na salapi nakadiin sa balang nakakasa. Lumapit ako sa kanya at pinagmasadan ang kanyang nagluluhang mukha. Hindi ako naawa sa kanya. Pumutok ang baril at nahulog ang katawan sa bangin.

Sumakay ako sa Toyota at dumiretso sa bahay nina Mang Custodio. Tatapusin ko ang paikot-ikot na mundong ito kukunin ko ang nararapat sa AKIN! Nakapasok ako sa bahay nakita ko ang usok ng sigarilyo at amoy ng gin sa hangin. (Masmadali pumatay ng tao pagnakapatay ka na.) Nasa tabi na ako ni Mang Custodio ngunit wala itong kibo. Namatay na pala siya hinawakan ko ang kanyang pulso ngunit walang ritmo ito. Nagbuntong hininga ako buti na lang at hindi ko na kailangan pumatay ulit. Dinala ako ng aking mga paa sa kahadyero. Naalala ko ang kombinasyon para mabuksan ang kahadyero ibinigay sa akin ni Marlon at ilan beses ko narinig mula sa mga pag-uusap ng mag-ama. Nanlaki ang mata ko sa salaping nagpakita sa akin. Nagmadali akong kumuha ng bag nagtapon ng nagtapon ng mga libo-libong salapi. Bumalik ako sa kwarto ni Marlon upang kunin ang mga papeles na nagsasaad ng aking pangalan. Jesus Nazareno. Pumunta ako sa bahay nila Tinoy upang kunin ang kanyang asawa’t anak. Hindi nila matanggap na patay na si Tinoy kinailangan ko silang kaladkarin patungong kotse dahil nasa peligro sila. Umuwi ako sa aming bahay ngunit sa pagdating ko nabawian na ng hininga si Tay Erning. Ipinikit ko ang kanyang mga mata at nagbigay ng maikling dasal.

Mabilis na ang mga lumipas na pangyayari sa panahon pagkatapos kong tumakas sa teritory nina Mang Custodio. Marami naman magagawa ang maraming salapi eh. Bayad dito bayad doon. Basta bayaran mo iyong mga tamang tao pwede ka nang makalusot at maangat ang sarili mo. Nagpapasalamat ako kay Marlon at kay Mang Custodio kung wala ang tulong nila walang mangyayari sa akin. Wala akong matututunan tungkol sa paghawak ng pera at sa pasikot-sikot ng mga negosyo. Isinasama ko sila tuwing nagdadasal ako.

Dito nagtatapos ang aking kwento. Medyo nainis ako sa sarili ko kung bakit natuwa ako na namatay si Tay Erning. Baka bunga nito ang aking kasawaan sa paikot-ikot ng tadhana sa akin. Ngayon, ako nagdesisyon para sa aking sarili hinawakan ko ang nararapat sa akin! Pero mahal ko siya hindi ko malilimutan ang nagawa niya para sa akin. May bago akong pangalan ngunit hindi ko sasabihin sa inyo baka kasi kilala niyo ako eh. At ipahayag ang mga nagawa ko sa aking dating buhay. Madali naman magpalit ng pangalan isa lang itong papeles mayroon ka nang identidad. Marami na ako ngayong pera kaya kahit ilang pangalan pa pwede kong bilin! Nagsisinungaling ako sa inyo pagsinabi ko na simple lang ang buhay ko. Marami akong Toyotang itim na binili mayroon na rin akong Jaguar at Rolls Royce. May mansion sa Palawan at madalas ang bakasyon namin sa France. Pero ang pinagkaiba ko sa ibang plastic na mayayaman na sinasabing simple lang ang buhay nila ay ipinapaaral ko ang mga mahihirap para hindi sila manatiling tanga at api-apihan. Hindi itong pakyut na charity work na pakain lamang iniaangat ko ang katauhan nila at kaisipan. Pangmatagalang-tulong.

Tutal marami na akong napatayong mga paaralan at mga simbahan. Nakatulong na rin ako sa mga kapwa ko mahirap napa-aral ang kanilang mga anak at nagbigay ng trabaho sa kanilang mga magulang. Sa tulong ko wala nang iskwater sa dati kong tirahan sa Pasig. Napalitan na ng mga sari-saring negosyo at pabahay. Lahat ng kilala ko noon ay nagkatrabaho sa tulong ko! Ngunit inilihim ko sa kanila ang aking identidad maraming taon na ang lumipas nakalimutan na nila ang aking itsura. Marami naman maitim at gusgusin sa buong Pilipinas maaalala pa kaya nila ako?

Pinakasalan ko ang nabiyudang mag-ina para kay Tinoy. Minahal ko sila parang sarili kong pamilya nagkaroon kami ng isa pang anak na babae. Pero tuwing nag-aayos ako ng barong sa harap ng salamin lagi kong nakikita ang batang gusgusin mula sa iskwater sa Pasig. Lagi siyang tumitingin sa akin at pinapaalala sa akin ang aking nakaraan. Kahit ilang beses man ako magmalinis laging nagpapakita sa aking mga kamay ang bahid ng dugo. Wala na akong magagawa ukol rito. Pero patuloy ako sa aking paggawa ng mabuti para sa aking pamilya’t anak at sa pagunlad ng mga mahihirap. Parehas lang kami nina Mang Custodio at Marlon ngunit hindi ako maramot at mandarambong tulad nila. Hindi rin ako nagpapanggap na wala akong masamang ginawa nangyari na iyon at lubusan ng nakabaon sa panahon. Nakatingin ako sa kinabukasan at sa mas nakakahigit na mabuti para magpakain sa kadiliman. Sikreto lang natin ito ah! Huwag niyong ipagpapakalat kasi kung ipinagkalat niyo maraming mawawalan ng trabaho at maraming taong mabibigo! May mga bagay na mas malaki sa indibidwal kung nakasalalay rito ang mas nakakahigit na kabutihan. Tutal baka ako ang presidente ng Pilipinas o kaya isang bayani o baka ako iyong batang nasa kalsada na naglilimos pwede rin iyong naglalako ng bigas tuwing madaling umaga gets niyo naman diba? Ang dami ko na ngang halimabawa eh. Kaya huwag niyong ipagkakalat ang kwento ko. Sige salamat sa pakikinig ninyo sa aking madramang istorya. Manonood muna ako ng Wowowee at magkakape kami ni papi Willie pagkatapos ng show niya. Paalam.

In A Planet Far, Far Away…

There was once a place far, far away deep into the milkiness of the Milky Way galaxy. There was a planet dancing on the rings of the stars. The sun shone brightly everyday on this beautiful planet. The trees were lit with a bright green and yellow sun drops. The land was of a deep brown and filled with lush flora that swayed with the music of the birds. The sea was of a dark blue rich with fishes of all kinds. The wind blew in a breeze mixed with hot and cold molecules. The weather was just right ‘like living on Earth’ as one of the gods would say.

The inhabitants wore majestic robes that resembled the hues of the rainbow. The men and women were handsome and beautiful, the children were full of vigor and cheer. Everyone was in harmony with creation, their rhythmic movements chimed with the melody of the wind. There was food enough for everyone, no one was hungry. There was no pain and death, it was a land that time forgot. When it was time to pass, the lolo’s and the lola’s simply combined with the spirits of the trees and flowers. No one would notice they had left because they would be replaced by newborn babies every time. No one bothered to ask why, it was just the way things were like how white or black matches well with everything.

Everyone was assigned a task to follow. All the men were tasked to hunt for food, farm the land, take care of the animals, wash the dishes, wash the clothes, send the clothes to the dry cleaners, iron them afterwards, take the kids to school bring them home later, discipline the kids, look manly everytime the missus would arrive, and the list would go on and on, it took four rolls of toilet paper looking scrolls to get the list done. In short the man did everything.

On the other hand all the women took care of the kids and were assigned to look beautiful—which was a task in itself. The children were separated from the girls and the boys. The girls had everyday voice lessons so they can practice telling their future husbands what to do and tell them to tell them how beautiful they are all the time. The little boys had guided rough housing and lessons in poetry. They also had a few lessons in showing off in front of the mirror. An instructor would teach them the art of ‘showing off in front of a mirror.’ They would all suck in their bellies and flex their muscles in front of the mirror. The instructor would shout ‘I’m the handsomest man in the U-N-I-V-E-R-S-E!’ and all the little boys would say the same thing while looking in front of the mirror and flexing their muscles.

The skills of hunting and farming were engraved upon each boy like it was the very reason they had existed—which was actually true other than washing the dishes, washing the clothes, telling the missus she’s beautiful…Well you get the picture. Moving the story along, each boy was told that to act manly one should always pick a fight with another boy who was smaller than them or who had a funny green nose. All these rules and regulations were placed in a little blue handbook called “Book of Rules” a total lack of imagination on the part of its writers. Every family had this book under their pillows and over their heads.

No one bothered to ask why they were doing these things and why everyone was designated a task that was strictly followed like an ant’s training regiment under a VERY strict queen. They were just used to it since they’ve been following these rules for a long time. They were happy and satisfied with the way things were.

* * *

Then one day the gods were really mad, they were arguing in the skies up above. Well actually it was just between two of them but it was like a full scale war that involved the entire universe. They were married, which pretty much explains everything. Mr. god came home rather late into the night, he was out with his old friends playing bridge again. This was hard to do since they were all blind and no one knew how to read braille. They just went about chucking cards at each other till the opposing player raised a white flag and said surrender. Mrs. god was really mad as in M-A-D mad. She wanted to scream at him till his hair fell off and his face turn powder white, but she couldn’t because she was deaf-mute. The only thing you could see were the letters of what she wanted to say but this didn’t help either since Mr. god was blind in the first place. The letters were in all CAPS and had the colors of the rainbow. But you wouldn’t want to know what she was saying it wasn’t very nice it was something like this #@$#@%##@%(*&*^. It started with an ‘F’ and ended with an ‘R’ it sounded like father.

The neighbours Ms. Know-It-All and Mr. Disciplinarian got angry with the husband and wife saying that they don’t deserve to be in the village of the gods. They were always arguing they would say, but in fact all the gods quarelled who was to be worshipped the most by the people. The god with the most believers lived in the highest peak of Mt. Pridea and sat on a big throne that looked like a toilet bowl and had rolls of crepe paper wrapped around them as a robe. It didn’t matter to them that they looked like idiots it was the title and the bragging rights that came along with it was important to them.

Ms. Know-It-All and Mr. Disciplinarian planned to be rid of the blind and deaf-mute husband & wife. They concocted evil potions with the tiger skin rug and puppy dog tails. They took hairs from their nostrils, a door knob, a piece of raw meat which was redder than red, and a pair of teddy bear hands. After a few days they created a a little boy who was four feet tall and weighed sixty pounds. The little boy asked a lot of questions that completely annoyed the conspiring scoundrels. His big beady eyes darted words and questions before he finished asking the first one. When he opened his mouth the air molecules magically formed letters and words then turned into sentences that ran right to the ears of the listeners.

The duo of Ms. Know-It-All and Mr. Disciplinarian couldn’t wait to see the expression on Mr. and Mrs. god’s faces. They could all ready imagine the total anarchy this little boy would cause. If the whole universe were at war in their house, this boy would simply bombard them with so many questions that can eradicate all life forms except cockroaches of course.

One day the little boy was in his usual talkative mode, Mr. Disciplinarian wanted to teach him a lesson by throwing a rubber ball at him to shut him up. He threw the ball so hard when it missed it hit the wall and bounced back right at him and hit him clean on the nose. He screamed JESUS CHRIST! My nose uck, oh no! there’s blooddddd. Ms. Know-It-All suddenly had a light bulb turned on over her head. “That’s it!” she said triumphantly. “What? You found some ice?” Mr. Disciplinarian asked. “No! that’s what we’ll call him,” she said. “Call him ice?”

“We’ll call him — Bob!” she said with an evil glare in her eyes.

* * *

Bob was gagged and put in a basket right outside the gods’ place. The connivers rung the doorbell and scrammed as fast as their winged feet could take them. The little boy was such an eyesore in that basket one would get sore eyes just by looking at him. His arms stuck out the baby clothes he was wearing, his legs were far too big for the basket, and his blanket barely covered his midsection. Mr. god clumsily opened the door and looked for who was ringing, he tripped over the flinging feet of Bob and landed on his face on the lawn. Mrs. god rushed outside to berate her husband’s clumsiness but she saw little Bob struggling to break free from the gag and very small baby clothes. The inner mother in her took him in and left Mr. god outside. Mr. god had to climb through the window to get back in the house. Once Mrs. god took the gag out, Bob asked a lot of questions that disturbed the ever so quiet Mrs. god. Bob asked why she was dressed in an all white robe instead of a mix of blue and white which looked better. He the turned to the way the furniture was arranged before the words formed in Mrs. god’s mouth for an answer written in a thought bubble. He went to ask why they were always arguing but Mrs. god couldn’t say anything and Mr. god couldn’t show him why.

His questions frequently irritated the married couple because they couldn’t explain anything to him. One day when he was asleep they put him in a metal spaceship which they conveniently bought at a neabry spaceship dealer. It looked like an egg but it was silver plated and had rocket boosters. Even in his sleep little Bob still talked and asked questions, Mr. and Mrs. god were happy to be rid of him. They set the coordinates on the machine and watch it blast off with a big B-O-O-M. The red embers left an indelible mark on their skin that was toasted a golden brown because they stood too close to the launch.

* * *

The aircraft pierced through the Milky Way galaxy and made a detour through a traffic of meteors and stars. The spaceship made its usual stop at the corner blackhole so that the invading aliens can make a light speed trip to another dimension. It landed on the planet far, far away. It wasn’t much of a landing it looked like an egg falling head on splatting on the ground with the yolk spilling out only the red was left behind in outer space.

The inhabitants of the planet far, far away were startled to see a falling star which was different from their daily routine. They rushed head-on to where the star crashed and for no reason they were compelled to bring farm animals and gifts with them on their journey. A god appeared to them in an apparition and told them to bring a gag and lots of bottled water. The god said ‘YOU SHALT NEED THOU BOTTLED WATER AND GAGGGGG….’ And disappeared into the moonshine.

They arrived at the scene of the crash which conveniently happened near a stack of hay and a manger. The inhabitans of a planet far, far away stood aghast (more of a person who has to go the bathroom and hasn’t been there for two weeks) at what they saw. Little Bob finally awoke and the first thing he said was ‘does anybody have a bottled water?’ All of them reached out their hands and handed him a bottled water. They were amazed at how such a small boy could hold such command over them. They gave their gifts and offered their farm animals. The boy gave them a weird look like when a color blind man wears an orange shirt with green pants to a date. Everyone held their breath once the boy opened his mouth to say something.

“Who are you?” the boy said.

The inhabitants had a startled look on their face because they don’t know what a question was cause no one asked any. They wondered what that symbol meant (?) after they boy uttered those words.

“What are you doing here?” He said again. Before anyone reacted one of the inhabitants stuck the gag in his mouth to shut him up. A man with a grisly white beard, very typical of the wise man mold, said that it was written in the Book of Rules that a Bob would come from the heavens to ask a lot of questions and bother everyone’s brains off. So it was settled, since no one bothered to ask why it was written and because a man with a beard said so, they took Bob back to their village.

* * *

They knew Bob was different from them and Bob knew it too. Bob asked a lot of questions that the inhabitans of a planet far, far away never asked. He asked why men and women were separated and given specific tasks when both could just help each other out. He pestered the instructors on why little boys had to flex their muscles in front of the mirror and why they had to pick on the little fellas and people with green noses. He was often spotted helping the men in their chores and helping the women with the kids. He went back and forth between famrs and houses. He asked the men why they put up being pushed around and doing everything while the women sat at home and just looked pretty. He asked the women why they just stayed at home when they could help the men in their work and why they always had to put on too much make up that made them look REALLY OLD. He started asking why the old people suddenly disappeared and why know one bothered to even notice. “It must be really lonely dying alone…” Bob said. From then on, people didn’t want to die and feeling alone and left behind, they were very careful of being hurt and hurting others. Little Bob went from place to place carrying his huge head and beady eyes on his sixty pound frame. He looked like a flying egg that grew legs in its sleep while the wind carried him to his destination.

On top of being brutally annoying Little Bob was brutally honest. He told some of the women they had too much make up that they looked like they were going to be buried the next day. And told some of the men they were scrawny and looked like they weren’t eating. In plain english he said they were girly and on a side note this came from a boy who stood four feet tall and weighed sixty pounds. At first the inhabitants were dumbfounded by Bob’s different ways and totally honest comments they didn’t know what to think of it. The truth was so much harder to understand than when someone gave them compliments most of the time. He even questioned the authority of the white bearded man and why the man always followed the Book of Rules to the letter. He also badgered him about his eye-patch even if he wasn’t blind in the first place.

They were so used to following their old ways that Bob seemed foreign to them which was true in the first place but that’s besides the point. They couldn’t answer all his questions and sometimes they didn’t even understand the questions he was asking. Bob left them more confused than they were before he landed on their planet. They felt all sorts of emotions in them that weren’t there before. They didn’t even know what emotions were till Bob came along with all his questions.

The inhabitants of a planet far, far away got used to the questions and started asking questions themselves. They shared their work load amongst the women and the men and even the kids started helping. The old folks were taken cared of. Some of them were so happy the men started wearing girls’ clothes and some of the women started wearing men’s clothes. It seemed to them that all of their questions were finally answered and nothing new came about. The happiness of emotions and the new songs of the birds gave them life and color.

Then one day Bob stopped asking questions his usual annoying rants and raves disappeared. There were no more words dancing across his lips but he still had a smile on his face a kind of smile that would make granny do the swing. His silence bothered some of the inhabitants and the weird signs he put up near his house. One particular sign was (‘turn left to reach Bob’s house’) the inhabitants were left scratching their heads after looking at the sign. They asked Bob for an answer but all they got was silence and a weird smile that could bring back the dead. All questioned Bob about that sign outside his house except one. It was a fat man who couldn’t read or write and desperately needed to go to the bathroom he said he was going to drop a big one. No one bothered to tell him where because they thought he was crazy and he joked all the time. The fat man then sought out Bob for advice which was really strange since he only needed to go the bathroom. Then he saw the sign pointing to the right since he couldn’t read he just followed the sign and there he was in a bathroom! He relieved himself and thanked Bob, Bob gave him a smile and a pat on the fat man’s face.

* * *

The inhabitants of a planet far, far away got annoyed with Bob’s silence because they wanted answers from him. A lot of problems came once people started exchanging roles and multi-tasking. They started asking for raises and more free time, some people started to pretend to be women and others pretended to be men. The children started to rebel against their parents and the old people didn’t want to die without health insurance. All they got from Bob was another weird smile that could’ve put the living to their deaths and a sign which was (‘always look up’) . This infuriated the inhabitants cause it made them think. The bearded man with an eye-patch came and said it was written in the Book of Rules that Bob would be sent on vacation to somewhere sunny like California while being bombarded with a barrage of apple pies till it was time for him to come back again, the date that no one would ever know. The man with an eye-patch started to hand-out apple pies to each one, even little Bob was going around handing them like fruitcakes during Christmas, although no one liked fruitcakes anyway. The inhabitants just wanted to get rid of the apple pies quickly.

The apple pies were thrown in mid-air that blotted out the sky, Bob stretched out his hands and knew that this was meant to happen. The apple pies collided with the pavement and splattered all over the place making a huge mess that would piss of the street sweepers. The inhabitants looked for the body but couldn’t find it, they searched everywhere and ate all the apple pies but they couldn’t find Bob. Maybe he’s gone to California? A little boy asked. They looked at the Book of Rules to look for answers but upon turning the pages it was blank except for one page. The letters were written in all caps and in apple pie juice, it said: I’M STILL THERE BUT I’LL BE BACK SOON.

Each one looked at the message and all they could say was silence, this time no one asked any questions.

*END*

Bayani

“I’ve never been a staunch believer in heroes.” The echoes of silence bounce up and down against the penumbra of light in the room. “I think they’re cry babies who want all the attention for themselves.” The dim lit darkness painted the walls with words that moved out of his mouth. “They have this pre-conceived notion of heroism that they need to save others. When in fact, they start saving people once they know they can’t. They come up with all these grand schemes so that they can have their name in history. Fighting amongst themselves telling each other that their right and your wrong, an endless waltz that repeats itself throughout history…”

They said he was a hero. He fought against the Japanese in World War II. He fought with his brothers in arms in the cold mountains. The blood drenched rain covered their military uniforms after their skirmish. His sinewy arms and brown skin reflected the red of the sunlight across the battlefield. His masculine face was covered with a mustache and a goatee. This was the face every Japanese soldier feared and the last they would see. Each bullet dining in flesh and drinking of blood till there was none left—everyone was full. They took their valiant stand to protect the fleeing American troops, General Douglas MacArthur was among them. Out of the two hundred men in their regiment only forty lived after the bloodbath.

Bombs rained on the blood sodden streets of Manila threshing out every inch for Japanese flesh. Razing each mountain and green horizon to filter whatever was left of the enemy. D-day has come, Germany had fallen—Hitler was dead. The self-proclaimed German savior killed himself, he died beside his Mary Magdalene, Eva Braun. “I shall return,” reverberated in every wall, sky, teardrop and bloodstream. The much awaited return of the savior has finally come. Liberation from the tyrants.

They said he fought valiantly never leaving anyone behind, he was always in front of the charge. Glory. History was calling his name. When the blood stained air cleared he was one of the men left standing like Zeus staring down at Mount Olympus. He was awarded the Medal of Valor presented to him by then President, Sergio Osmena…

His trail of thought was suddenly disrupted by a voice from downstairs. “Honey are you up there brooding about life again?” Josephine said. “You’re food’s getting cold, the tilapia might swim back to the river where it came from.”

“I didn’t know why I got married in the first place. Maybe it was love. Maybe because I pitied her or it was the other way around. Maybe I wanted to save her. I don’t remember actually,” Jose said. He grabbed a photo album buried under the old newspapers. He scanned through the old photographs of a still amber hourglass. Each picture formed an incandescent memory stored in the back of his head. Telling him of his past, present, and future all in one turn.

“She was very beautiful then.”

“Are you still up there? We’re practically skin and bones down here.”

“She still is even now. Her mix of mestiza blood stood out in the still picture.”

“She was a beauty queen that dated the popular guys when we were in highschool but she realized that brainy people could actually draw a smile on her face.”

“Daddy we’re starrrrvvvvvinnnngggggggg,” little Jose II said.

A friend once told me, “you must’ve lost your mind when you walked down that aisle and said I do.”

“He was probably right.”

He put the photo album aside and went down the flight of stairs. “I’m coming dear.”

“Say your prayers first Jose,” Josephine said.

The food was passed around the table as hands reached out and got something to eat. The silence fills the damp air waiting for a voice to break into the sheets of molecules.

“Do you have something to say to your father Jose?”

“Ummm….”

“What is it little Jose?”

“I….I…I have to repeat grade 5 papa…”

“Why? You passed all your subjects this school year.”

“I failed history papa…”

“Oh.”

“Papa, mama look at my drawing of Jose Rizal, look look!!!” A scream shot through the darkness surrounding the walls. An echo reverberates around the white paint of the house engulfing the silence of a black and white picture. The muffled screams don’t enter his ears. They were swallowed by the door closed by the light.

“Honey are you all right? You suddenly zoned out.”

“What?”

“Your son just told you he had to repeat the 5^th grade.”

“Oh…yeah. I just remembered something no worries.”

She gave me that look. Her brown eyes penetrating right through my skin and into the back of my head. The look that said your hiding something from me, you can tell me anything. I’m your wife.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. I lied.

Jose II sits there twiddling with the food on his plate. “I find that rather strange since the father’s a renowned historian, don’t you think? Maybe you should have enrolled him for tutorials this school year,” Josephine said.

“I told you a couple of times all ready he doesn’t need to, he’s a bright boy. Isn’t that right Jose?”

“Of course I am papa, I’m named after you!” he said with utmost gusto that could knock a tree down.

The boy does have charm I tell myself, must’ve gotten it from his mother. “Atta boy Jose.”

Jose has always been a smart boy. He was your typical Einstein when it came to the different sciences and mathematics. I’m not saying this like any other parent who can’t find anything wrong with their kids—well not at least till they hit their teens. He really was talented, he had a peculiar way of doing things. He’d always have an answer in mind before the solution presented itself. He was moving backwards when he was solving problems. Most of the time, the teachers had a problem with this it bothered their way of doing things. They always had to adhere to a strict set of rules, they couldn’t see the order and beauty in chaos. The type of chaos that gave an answer at least not the one that spawns the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Accordingly, his true genius didn’t reflect in his grades he always got somewhere between 75-78.

The silence drifts for a while along the yellow brick road of unspoken words, waiting for its turn to come out at the right moment. Josephine put away the plates and put the leftovers inside the refrigerator.

“Jose why don’t you go upstairs and do your homework.”

“Ok mom.”

I know she wants to talk to me about something when she starts washing the dishes three times over. The way she puts her hair to her right side brow when something is on her mind. It’s amazing how women say so much without saying anything at all.

“Jose, I don’t want our child going to a tutor…”

“Meaning?”

“I want you to teach him.”

“You know I’m busy with work and all…I’ve made new discoveries regarding our national hero Jose Rizal…Well not just him as a matter of fact. I’m just really busy right now.”

“Is it more important than teaching our own son history?”

“No of course not! I’ll just finisht this particular assignment first. Then I’ll be more than willing to teach him.”

“That’s what you always say.” The words came to Jose’s mind before it came out of Josephine’s lips. Words wilted slowly across the red of her lips and into Jose’s ears. These words clung onto his skin like a rape victim that couldn’t wash the dirt off her body no matter how many times she tries.

“Come on honey not all the time,” as Jose swooped in for a kiss.

“I’ll make time, I promise.” His words bounced off the wall like a rubber ball before arriving in Josephine’s ears. Making sure that they gain enough momentum to make a forceful impact. The two shadows dance upon the brightly lit-room to the music of tap water running across dirty dishes. The night unwinds, the cold whispers of a December eve creeps beyond the skin.

The phone rings.

“Hello.”

“It’s your mother Jose,” Teodora said drearily.

“Hi mom…” I say uneasily matching the tone of her voice. It’s kind of late for her to be calling at this hour, I whisper in that little voice in the back of my head. The words slowly germinate in my mouth repeating the same lines I said to myself. It came out in bits and pieces before they were compelled to form into something more familiar.

“It’s kind of late for you to be calling at this hour? What’s on your mind?”

“It’s about your father…”

The dust has settled, the blood has dried. The war was over it was time to rebuild the broken shambles of of another country’s war fought in our own land. President Manuel Roxas was granted pardon by General Douglas MacArthur for serving under the Japanese regime in a puppet government. There was an outrage against his amnesty but what could he have done under the circumstances? He wanted no more bloodshed he did what had to be done. He had a daunting task ahead of him to fix the country or what was left of it with the help of our allies, the Americans. The same people who “liberated us” from the Spanish for a cool $20 million.

It’s been seven years since the war had ended, his name plate hung above the TV set while the music of Nat King Cole’s Unforgettable blared through the tube radio. I stared up at the name plate looking down on me. The swinging of the Medal of Valor mesmerized me as I watched it turn the hands of time. I breathed in every single letter on that name plate. “Unforgettable thats what you are…Unforgettable though near or far…” The bronze of each letter were slowly etched on my mind.

“Jose R. Mercado”

It was the same name as mine but only the “Jr.” was added at the end. I was named after my father to follow through on the tradition of great heroes in our family so they say. My brother Paciano and I used to sit on our lola’s lap and she would tell countless stories about our ancestors and our lolo. Our lolo’s name was Protacio Mercado. Our lola would go on in her best Lola Basyang impersonation of her fondest memories of our lolo Protacio. She’d start by saying he was a part of the Philippine Revolution headed by Emilio Aguinaldo’s army. They fought against the Spanish troops and the Americans during the late 1890’s to the early 1900’s. She’d also mention that frightful experience when she witnessed Jose Rizal’s execution in Bagumbayan. The gunshots roared through the muted silence, devouring every sound and the words that tried to escape the mouths of the spectators. She would go on-and-on tirelessly about our lolo’s bravery and valor. He was onced tasked to guard a special meeting between Gen. Antonio Luna and Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo in Cabanatuan, Nueva Ecija. She said with utmost enthusiasm with a capital E as the word triumphantly danced across her lips. We never got to see Lolo Protacio, we only saw him encased in an old photograph and the frozen amber of our lola’s memories. Lolo Protacio died of Polio shortly after papa was born.

There were plenty of people visiting our house during those times. I didn’t really recognize any of them till much later. My brother and I used to peak between the legs of our staircase looking at the various people talking with papa. We’d laugh at the pilukas of various shapes and sizes on the heads of the fifty year old men in the living room. One looked like a dead racoon on top of his head, the other one was quite peculiar it looked like the Grand Canyon with hair sprouts growing in the middle. I was seven and Paciano was fourteen. Even though he was seven years older, he treated me like we were the same age. He always had that calming smile and pat on the back whenever we got into trouble.

Those were fond memories…

“What’s wrong?” I tried to sound concerned. My dad and I really haven’t been talking for quite some time now.

“He’s not getting any better…He can’t speak anymore…He can’t even move. He’s got little time left they say.” Her somber tone sent a chill down my spine.

“Why don’t you come visit…” It was more of a demand than a request.

“You haven’t been visiting often since your brother Paciano died…”

“Yes…I’ll make time.” I said half heartedly.

It’s amazing how I kept this a secret to my wife of more than ten years. I’ve hid behind work and more work to get it off my mind. I’ve tried to keep busy so that it won’t creep up to me. Once a lie has been told over and over again it becomes a truth to the person who says it. Or maybe the truth before is no longer the truth now, it changed over time and the different circumstances. It’s so much harder to confront the truth now since I’ve been accustomed to living a lie. Then this phone call comes. As the words walked into my ears. I heard that same Nat King Cole song again playing in my head back in ’53. “Unforgettable thats what you are…Unforgettable though near or far…” The image of that bronze nameplate hanging on the wall remains frozen in a black and white frame. The swinging of the Medal of Valor lingers in my head. The crooning voice of Nat King Cole lulled me into a daze that was broken by the sound of my mother on the other end of the receiver.

“I’ll tell him you’ll come and pay a visit.”

“Ok.” I hung up the phone.

Josephine walked out of the bathroom drying her hair with a towel. “Who was that?” she said.

“It was my mom.”

“Why did she call at such a late hour?”

“Nothing really, just wanted to check on things…” I forced a sly smile on my face, I couldn’t think of a better lie.

“Really?”

“Yes…really…” I had a feeling she could read my mind but I tried not thinking about it at all. I couldn’t look at her directly.

“It’s getting late…I think I’ll go on ahead and sleep. I have to be early tomorrow at the History convention.”

“Suit yourself…I’ll go and watch a re-run of John En’ Marsha tonight. Goodnight.”

“Don’t forget your promise to tutor Jose about history ok?”

“Ok…I won’t. Goodnight.”

I walked in the room and climbed up on the bed. I felt like I was laying down on a slate of rock with pebbles sandwiched in a pillowcase. The dense silence in the darkness made me feel all alone despite the heavy laughter coming from the downstairs television. I close my eyes to doze into sleep but that song back in ’53 kept on playing in my head over and over again. “Unforgettable thats what you are…Unforgettable though near or far…” The song creeps slowly into my dreams sending me to a sea of stillness. A vesper of thoughts seeps itself through the darkness.

I was suddenly awake walking through an alley towards our old house. Everything was in black and white, there was no sound, the faces of our old neighbours were in full detail but they carried no expression on their faces like a blank canvas waiting for its painter. Every movement was magnified in my eyes, the kargador threw the sack of rice with great gusto upon the pavement. The ripples in the air stream caressed my skin giving me a tiny pinch. The kids with their paper planes ran across the streets in slow motion. I ran my fingers across the wall that Protacio and I vandalized. We drew the face of Aling Nena on her newly painted backyard. The white paint dripped down from our lithe fingers as her croaky voice screamed out our names. The soundwaves of her voice screaming our names remained frozen in mid air as I walked on by. I could feel and touch every letter as I brushed my right hand upon them.

I was right in front of our house, the door of light opened itself. I was inside looking at the same bronze nameplate and swinging medal. But this time the nameplate was rusting it no longer had its former luster. It was decaying, the rust was slowly gorging the yellow backdrop till it was a shade of gray. The medal wilted away with each swing from left to right, leaving behind a trail of cinereal dew across the floor.

He sat there right in front of me, in his rocking chair. Staring blankly into my eyes he said something—no it was more of he slurred something. His arms were immobilized upon the arm rest of the chair. His legs hung limply upon the floor, paralyzed and immovable. I glance upon the nameplate once again to ask myself is this the same man?

I looked out the window and saw my brother Paciano running towards Senator Ferdinand Marcos. He saw an armed man carrying a hand grenade run towards the Sen. Marcos eating his lunch at a café in Manila Bay. The guards were surprised at what they saw and couldn’t respond there boots were suddenly made of concrete. Paciano struggled against the armed man while Sen. Marcos sat aghast he wasn’t even able to drop the spoonful of chicken he was about to put in his mouth. The pin was removed and dropped near the table. My brother had no other recourse, he put his body on top of the hand grenade. There was an explosion of flesh and blood that spilled onto the pavement. Gunshots were heard the man who brought the grenade was gunned down on the spot. They put fifteen new holes in his body. My brother lay there motionless as his pink entrails were scattered across the floor. The frantic shuffling of feet drowned out the silence of the screams of passers-by. His brown face was filled with palor, his brown and chinky eyes pale from the explosion. Sen. Marcos was swiftly whisked away by the police. Paciano’s body was brought to the morgue that day. My mother and I didn’t want to even look at it we knew it was him when the mortician described the body for us. My brother believed in that man. He had nothing bad to say about Ferdinand Marcos. He said that one day that man will lead this country out of the shambles that the Americans left it in. “He’s going to clean up this shit—the Americans left,” he would say passionately after downing a shot of tequilla. His red face would suddenly burst out laughing after saying his two cents. This was in stark contrast to our pro-American father, he was offered an American citizenship after the war but he declined, saying he would rather live and die a Filipino. Papa never held anything against the Americans like Kuya Protacio even though he himself didn’t agree with the war. He believed that it was necessary to fend off a greater evil in Adolf Hitler.

Kuya Protacio believed in Marcos’s cause and he was willing to die for it—which he ultimately did. In his own way he became a hero like papa and lolo. Papa was especially strict on him since he was the eldest son. He had high hopes for him, there was so much expectations to carry on the family tradition. He was enrolled in military school under papa’s former protégé Lt. Arnel Luna who was Gen. Antonio Luna’s grandson. Kuya Protacio was such a headcase they gave up on him, they said he was a lost cause, a bad apple of sorts. He brought different women into the army barracks and hid bottles of Jack Daniel’s under his bed. He was dismissed from military school after just one year and two months in training. As he walked out of the base he threw his cigarette on the steel doors and waved his finger at the soldiers on guard as he rode the bus home. It wasn’t the ring finger nor the thumb, the soldiers thought that it was probably his pinkie because he had a smile on his face. This did not fit well with papa he hit my brother so hard he hit the ground. This was no easy task my brother was a big man for his age he was eye to eye with papa, they had the same build in contrast to my smaller frame. He was so disappointed and told him when will he ever man up. His moment finally came on that fateful day in Manila Bay.

The light burst into the room, I saw a little boy carrying a drawing of Jose Rizal running to the other room right in front of me. There was a muted scream that shot through the room. The little boy went towards the open door carrying his picture with a smile on his face. The slap across my mother’s face was felt throughout the entire house. Paciano was not home then, he was in school I had to stay behind because I had a tummy ache. The boy started to cry once he saw mama on the floor in pain. She never told me why he was acting the way he did. I tried to draw near towards her but the more steps I take the farther I seemed from reality. It hit me—I was only in a dream.

I awoke startled at the time that passed in my dream. The pastiche of memories were so vivid I felt every detail in my body. I leaned to the side and felt jospehine right next to me. It was dark outside and the howling of our neighbours dog filled my ears. I looked at my watch and it was 2:00 A.M. I tried to sleep again but I just couldn’t. I was restless the whole night and I think Josephine felt it too.

“Honey, are you awake?”

“…” It’s funny how I can lie even in my sleep.

The alarm sounded exactly at 7:00 A.M. I wasn’t able to sleep since I woke up at two this morning. Josephine was all ready up and probably preparing breakfast downstairs.

“Call your father Jose. Tell him the food is ready.”

Before Jose got up the stairs I was all ready in the dining room, prim and proper. I kissed Josephine good morning and gave little Jose II a pat on the head.

“What’s for breakfast?” I said.

“Corned beef and eggs.”

I filled my plate with ulam and rice. I ate sparingly because I really needed to be going, I had to be early at work. I left shortly after Jose was picked up by Mang Jun their bus driver. I said the usual goodbyes to Josephine and drove out our backyard.

The road ahead was wider than usual. I expected traffic in EDSA during this time of day. I zipped through the empty road glancing at the faceless people going to work. I thought about my dream last night being my contemplative self when there’s no one else to talk to. I retreat back into my own world to try to solve problems like this one.

November 26, 1901 she lies in bed prostrate looking blankly at the ceiling muttering to herself. What is your name? he said. Auguste, she replied. Last name? Auguste. What is your husband’s name? Auguste, I think. Are you married? To Auguste. Mrs. D? Yes, yes Auguste D. What are you doing? Horse radish and potatoes. Asked to write her name, she couldn’t get past Mrs…If you buy 6 eggs at 7 dimes each how much is it? Differently…I have lost myself, I have lost myself! She was immobilzed and bed-ridden, she had to be helped to be cleaned and fed. She became restless, delusional, hostile, incongruous…Her name was Frau Auguste D. she died in 1906. Alois Alzheimer was her psychiatrist.

I parked my car right outside the national archives. A sidelong glance to the guard standing by the door, I gave him a little nod of greeting.

Alzheimer’s was incurable there was no escaping it once it takes hold. The degenerative disease slowly languishes memories stored in the brain. Eating each fragment till the shadows are left. You can’t even move, you can’t even talk, you won’t even remember the people you love. You won’t even know who you are. A cruel way to die, you’re all alone when the darkness comes. You’ll be nothing more than just a piece of paper written in textbooks. Once they see things in a different perspective you’d be revised and rehashed to fit the current truth. Once a hero, now a villain. Once a villain, now a hero.

I raced through the silence to my desk to get some work done. I gathered some colleagues so we could discuss new material we got regarding the history of the Philippines.

“Did you sleep last night Jose?” a colleague asked.

“Yes, why?” I said.

“You look like shit,” he said across the haze of cigarette smoke. His yellow tinted glasses reflected my image. I didn’t notice it when I left the house but I did look really bad in that reflection.

“Is there something we should know about?” another colleague asked.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“All right none of our business then anyway…”

“So what have we got?”

“It’s strange that the founder of the Katipunan was executed because of a power struggle within the upper levels of the organization. Aguinaldo was positioning himself because Bonifacio crossed his line of authority. They charged him with treason of all things!”

“There was a lot of unrest during those times, who would lead the war against the Spanish and eventually the Americans?”

“Everyone wanted to be a part of it. Each one wanted to lead, no one wanted to follow. It was not so much a matter of effort or passion, it was a lack of cohesion.”

“The Magdiwang and Magdalo factions comprised the Philippine Revolution against the Spanish both sides were reluctant to help each other. Hell, they even wanted Jose Rizal to take sides with either one of them.”

“Emilio Aguinaldo was bought by the Spanish for $800, 000.”

“And yes he eventually sided with the Americans when he was caught with his pants down in Isabela.”

“Pathetic, while people were dying he sold out. And he killed two guys who actually made sense in battle. He did it twice!!! Once during the Spanish Revoltuion the other against the Americans. Why fight in set-pieces when you could take the enemy to the mountains?” as my colleague said as he took another drag of Marlboro.

“He wanted glory more, fighting in the mountains was not glorious. He sent those men to their deaths. There’s a difference between stupidity and valor. Those deaths could have been avoided. Death was like poetry to them. It was beautiful. Dying in battle for your country when you could have lived another day and done something much more. They want to die heroes instead of living like one.”

“Gregorio del Pilar’s death was a waste of talent. He wanted to protect a man who he saw as a symbol of hope for this country. He wanted to protect the Revolution and its cause.”

“But in the end he was nothing more than just a corrupt politician…”

“Who could’ve foreseen it anyway? What if the people were informed of his cowardice would they still have contiuned the struggle? Would they have united? Or would they have eaten themselves up saying that this faction should take charge or their own faction should be the one leading?”

“It’s pick your poison and Russian roulette all in one.”

“How could they unite when they know someone is going to turn against them eventually? Aguinaldo had his use.”

“In that perspective if people knew Rizal signed that retraction his cause would have been totally lost.”

“We have no proof of that.”

“But the mere fact that this rumor came about would’ve changed how people have perceived him during that time. We have the benefit of retrospect to say things that people then didn’t know.”

“Would it really have mattered if he signed it or not? Would it have mattered if he became Protestant or remained a Catholic? Some lies are worth telling than revealing the truth.”

“Or maybe they were truths before we saw them as lies…”

“I think the real hero behind Rizal’s success is his brother Paciano. In my eyes he was the hero simply because he didn’t choose to become one. He ceded his rights for a better life so he can pay for that man’s education and to pay for his novels. He might’ve even convinced him to study in Europe and take up medicine. While Rizal was carousing with women all over the world and getting his ass drunk he was there in the farm trying to make money enough to support Rizal in Europe and help their family in Calamba. Paciano’s shadow lurks over Rizal in whatever he has accomplished. And who do people remember and talk about?” A silenced lurked before he said an answer. “Jose Rizal, because he was shot dead and martyred. He never had to deal with the questions of the living.”

“All this philosophical meandering is giving me a headache…Are you sure your not smoking weed there my friend? Since you’ve been smoking that drag everyone’s been talking as if there was a speech writer handing out little note cards on what to say. HAHAHA!” my colleague said heartily.

“Don’t be like Jose here he takes things a little too seriously,” he said jokingly looking at me with his brown pimpled face.

“You should relax, you have such a pretty wife and you guys only have one kid HAHAHA!!!”

It’s funny how cynical and jaded people get once they find out weaknesses or flaws. Those same flaws stand out like sore limbs and they block our judgment and understanding. The truths we find out blunt our senses, its as if we preferred being lied to because it was easier to swallow. It was much easier to point out mistakes cause we all had them. Our perception changes once we know more and become more intelligent as they say. The veil of mystery relinquished, nothing really surprises us anymore. We become too self-assured as we grow older. Believing the truth we tell ourselves but its not the same truth that others believe in. It might even be a lie we confused as the truth, we’re just too afraid to ask ourselves that question. As a historian I found some things out about our family that were quite disturbing.

The white expanse of the setting sun across Manila Bay lighted the dark alleys and roads. The burgeoning number of people heading home were illuminated with the blotches of red coming from the sun. Their faces were a pale pink and the muted murmurs spread throughout the sea breeze. The monotonous yellow fade of the streetlights slowly lighted the path I was to take. The white light coming form overtime workers filled the skyline like a terrestrial show of the milky way.

Lolo Protacio was a hitman for Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo during the Philippine Revolution. He was one of the men who shot Gen. Antonio Luna and gave him a few new holes to breathe in. They weren’t satisfied with shooting him they cut him pretty badly. He was assassinated and my grandfather was a part of it. He had a hand in the killing of the only guy who made sense in battle. A general that even the Americans respected. It’s disappointing, I don’t think Lola ever knew or if she did would she ever tell us. She was so fond of him and she loved him. It wasn’t only Antonio Luna who was assigned to him but he also had a hand in Andres Bonifacio’s execution…

I wasn’t feeling hungry. I wasn’t cold. The heat didn’t touch my face. Time drifted by quickly as I stared through the windshield of my black Toyota. I didn’t go home that night…

I went to the Philippine General Hospital when they permitted visitors into the rooms. I didn’t call in to say I wouldn’t be going to work today, I just didn’t show up. It’s all ready been two days since the last time I went to work or went home. Walking through those halls made me shiver. I couldn’t hear the nurse talking to me the white walls were so daunting and laid heavily upon me. I saw the faces of the old men and women, they were muttering to themselves in their white overhauls. Most of them talked by themselves whispering to the reminiscent air. Conjuring up all sorts of memories that they thought they had. Saying names that bore no meaning. Another man was carried away in a stretcher, he was all curled up in the fetal position of a baby. He wasn’t moving, he wasn’t breathing. No one was around him to tell him who he was.

The room was 1201 the creaking door brought forth a familiar sound back from ’51. “Unforgettable that’s what you are…Unforgettable though near or far.” Papa hit brother so hard after he was kicked out of military school. “Like a song of love that clings to me…How the thought of you does things to me.” Papa and mama were always arguing after he spent most of our savings and educational funds on gambling and drink. “And forever more, thats how youll stay… Thats why, darling, its incredible.” He was never the same man again after 1960. His fellow military officers used him to get to the funds of the military school for scholarships and new uniforms. They embezzled the cash to fuel the resurrection of the Hukbalahap. He was used as a tool for power, his name was his calling card. They wanted to position themselves to overthrow the government, they wanted communism. They called it the progressive movement that can alleviate the poor of the Philippines. The Hukbalahap was formed to fight against the Japanese standing side-by-side with the allied forces to fend off the greater evil. The former allies turning into enemies. “That someone so unforgettable…Thinks that I am unforgettable too.” The music fades into black then dissipates in the muted air.

I walked into that room and saw mama slumped over the bed where papa lay. He was looking up at the ceiling blankly clutching his knees to his chest. He seemed restless and looked as if he hasn’t slept for days.

How could I love this man? Was he the same man? His memories are gone, he has lost himself. I looked at him he didn’t seem to recognize me, all he said was Mr. His decrepit state struck me. He was no longer Superman. He wasn’t the man who saved MacArthur. He wasn’t the man on that bronze nameplate or that encryption behind the medal. He was exposed, he was weak…

The skies were dark the people drank and spat and urinated. The soldiers were gambling and saying profanities. There were obscene words thrown at the prisoners crucified. The air was damp and filled with blood. Hate permeated through the pores of each individual at the foot of the crosses. There were three men suspended in mid-air for sins against society. The first criminal was not afraid of death, he yearned for it, he screamed at its face. There was no light for him death was his only recourse because it came upon all. He was alone and proud. The other criminal was not afraid of death but he was afraid of having lived a life of loneliness and solitude. He knew he was beyond salvation and there was nothing he could about it. He looked at that beaten man with a crown of thorns upon his head. He was almost naked and barely breathing crying out to the sky. He was suffering like them, he was not put above them but with them in pain. The criminal stretched forth his hand to the man in the middle—he was no longer alone.

I couldn’t forgive him for what he did to us. The blows he threw at mama and my older brother. His fits of drunken stupor in the middle of the night. How his gambling almost brought us to ruin. I admired my brother for never fighting back to the berating and beatings papa gave him. He did his best to pay for the things we needed, mama and him. They worked their asses off so we could pay our debt. Kuya Paciano paid for my tuition, for college and high school after he was kicked out of military school. To some extent he helped me pay for my wedding—he was gone, he died on that fateful day years ago. Mama never left his side despite all he had done to her and to us. She stayed loyal to him. She had every reason to leave him behind but she didn’t…

I admire her strength, she had to deal with the thoughts of the living and the memories of the dead. She had to carry these with her. The pain of battle is temporary it wears out then it heals, to those who die all the more liberation. The people who are left behind have to remain strong not only for themselves but also for the people around them.

“I wasn’t going to leave her, not this time…We weren’t going to leave him.”

It took a lot of explaining to Josephine what I actually did when I disappeared for two days without much of a phonecall or even a note in the office. She called the police, she looked in the national archives, she looked everywhere for me. She never told Jose I was gone for two days. She just told him I was out on a business trip, the most convenient of lies so as not to worry him. She gave me slap so hard when I arrived at home she took the words right out of my mouth. And I saw them lie there on the floor turning red. She huggedf and kissed me so much I couldn’t breathe.

“You look like shit and smell like it too, I’ll give you a bath,” she said.

It was a Sunday afternoon we were all gathered in front of the TV to witness a turning point in Philippine history. I sat there with Little Jose II and Josephine waiting for Pres. Ferdinand Marcos to make his huge announcement that can turn this country around.

“Hey Jose we should study history after this announcement .”

“Sure papa, I’ve read ahead. I know a bit about Jose Rizal all ready. I know he was a very good student when he was my age!”

“Good!”

“Maybe one day when you get older we should write a history of our family, what do you thnk?” I added.

“That would be cool!” His eyes grew wide with excitement.

“Want to hear a neat story on how I met your mother?”

“Just leave out the kissing part papa.” Jose II snickered with mischievous delight.

“Your mother was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. One day she was walking down a dark alley she was followed by goons and thugs who wanted to rob her. She screamed her lungs out when they got her cornered but no one came to her rescue. Then suddenly a man with very big muscles and very strong arms came ut of nowhere. The man said halt! You shall not touch her for I will bring you to justice! He swooped down on all of them with one hit they all fell down and couldn’t move. The man asked her if she was all right all she could do was nod her head. The knight in shining armor introduced himself and the rest as they say was history…”

“Yea right papa…”

The television set started to show Pres. Ferdinand Marcos’s face. The much awaited announcement was finally upon us. “Kailangan natin ng disiplina upang marating ang kaunlaran ng ating bayan. Tulong-tulong tayong lahat upang maingat ang bawat Pilipino. Disiplina at kaayusan patungong kaunlaran!”

Josephine looked at me with a sly grin and warm eyes. With my eyes I told her come on father’s can tell tall tales to their sons, so we can look good to them. So we can be a manly example to them. We both laughed after that exchange because we both knew that was far from reality. I remember that day, I couldn’t talk, I was muttering to myself. I finally got the courage to talk to her I tripped and fell. I hit my nose on the chair she was sitting on and she ended up bringing me to the infirmary.

I tried to create an image for Little Jose to look up to even with just a fairy tale. The society I’d want to build may have been different from the way he’d see it. But I’ll always fall short or it’ll never turn out the way we want it to. One way or another he’ll figure me out, he’ll figure things out. He’ll see his own truth and may not believe in mine but it doesn’t matter anymore.

“…Sa pagtatag ng Martial Law makakamit natin ang ninanais nating disiplina patungong kaunlaran. Malalabanan ang pagrerebelde ng mga nais lumaban sa demokrasya! Kailiangan natin ng isang panatag na bansa upang makasulong sa kinabukasan!”

I believe in this man, his vision for our country as much as Kuya Paciano believed in him. With discipline and order we could go places. But who am I to dabble in politics? I’ve got all I wanted and all I hoped for. I looked at Little Jose and the baby Josephine was carrying.

“I’ve got my future right here.”

Memory

I hold your picture in my hand

as I watch time turn into sand.

The image of you preserved in

the amber of a heart shaped box.

For that time

For that place

To see you once again

face-to-face.

The tears

the fears

through all these years.

The joys

the sorrow

that formed tomorrow.

Imagine that kiss

Imagine the bliss.

Imagine what could

have been forever.

Madhouse

The pink clouds explode in a stained looking glass

overseeing the white skies across the barrier.

The white straight jacket holds together

the grandiloquent thoughts wanting to break free.

The bars that surround the white effigy

symbolize a concocted vision of gray.

Time sits still when one is dreaming.

The deep brown eyes look on as time drifts by

through a seamless milk of river.

No past silhouette emblazoned on the shadows.

The endless dance of light lingers

on the scent of an angel’s whisper.

The drizzling of the amorphous sunset

slips through the hazy hands.

Wanting, longing

to touch reality before

the dream siphons into the mist.

As free as a bird flying across

the endless blue of sky.

“She told me she loved me”

I thought she was crazy.

What is there to love?

I was an alcoholic

a chain smoker

a womanizer.

She was never impressed with what I’ve done

or what I’ve accomplished.

She just looked at me with her brown eyes

and her ardent smile.

Piercing through the sentinels of shade.

I was exposed.

I was naked.

I stayed away from the gaze.

Running through the hazy halls

of meandering thoughts.

I tried to push her away

into the crevasse of my dreams.

But she was still there

she always was…

As I open my eyes to the light of day.

I indulged in nightly trips

from body to body, coming and going.

I return home to the same brown eyes

and whitewashed smile.

“She told me she loved me”

I thought she was crazy.

She told me she believed in God.

I was always skeptical even though

my parents were staunch believers.

They thought they could save the world.

They dubbed themselves superman and wonder woman

to an imaginary world of light.

They always had to look good

didn’t want to get their hands dirty.

They kept on trying to change me

to suit their mold.

She was different.

She was very simple.

She took things as they were

the pink in the sun,

a cat’s whisper through a looking glass.

The death of memory etched on a gray moon.

She took me as I was.

From the strange way I tie my shoes

to the nights of endless folly.

“She told me she loved me”

I thought she was crazy.

A phone call from a friend

told me about her condition.

“It runs in the family ,” she says.

“She’s been that way since she was a child.”

The news of a death foretold

trickled down the night.

I told her about the news from a friend.

She held my hand and gave me a warm smile

with her brown eyes she told me everything.

We rode the car to the white house of thoughts

bringing our five year-old son.

The road is slowly eaten away

as the pale gates draw near.

“We’ve been expecting you,” said the doctor.

She walks through the door

her image sheathed in an amber of air.

I looked out the window and saw

the hues of the rainbow

dancing on the clear blue sky.

I walked out the door and into the car.

The clear brown eyes of the boy

reflected at me the way her mother does.

As we drove away in the black sedan

I looked out the window

the pale gates and the white

hospital building stared back

under a somber breath and dark eyes.

“I just might be the crazy one,” he whispered.

Return Address

The red hue of the sky

blots in my mind’s eye.

As I watch from the heavens

the traipse of thoughts.

Evanesce into a transient memory,

longing to return home.

Standing on a pillar

a god’s point of view.

Learning of inequity

in the deeper shade of blue.

How lonely it must be up there!

Life and death in your hands,

good and evil in your midst.

Freedom to do whatever you like.

Yet you choose to remain silent

as death razes the land.

Try as I might to climb the boundless summit

I awake from the hand

of my eternal slumber.

Relishing the dream

from the top of the mountain.

Forever lost in the white gleam

of the gray ebb of the fountain.

The faster I climb

the higher I go

the faster I fall.

The longer I hold on

the more I lose control.

Try as I might to prevent the fall

it is only a matter of time before the bells toll.

I glance your lithe white shadow

hide behind the clouds of tomorrow.

I reach out and touch your face

through the red billows of thought

I was burned by the calescent glaze

of your eternal grace.

I run away ensconced in my black incubus

drive you towards the omnibus of life.

Locking you away

in forever and a day.

Waiting, waiting, waiting

as dark waits for the light.

You’ve never let me out of your sight.

You hide in a pink touch

a tiger’s kiss in white bliss.

A child’s light whisper

and honest gaze.

As an ephemeral moonshine

drips from the night sky.

Yet you remain a secret

locked in the embers of my mind.

Your face shimmers like a

picturesque sunset reflected on a blue stream

etched in my imagination.

Meandering endlessly on the yellow brick road.

Yet your face seems so familiar

something that I’ve longed for since birth.

As I comprehend briefly the ambiguous haze

a breath of new life dances in my mind.

Invigorates every movement every step.

I let go and you control

everything seems worthwhile.

Harmonics

Black and white.

Pleasure and plight.

Once an angel

always a demon.

Forever choosing

the two-faced moon.

Night and day.

The endless dance

that changes in every way.

One way or another

you’d have to choose your tune.

You can’t save

unless you can destroy.

Life gets better once it gets worse.

As life breathes death

it brings a beginning to an end.

Magadia

The downpour of black rain fills the bronze smoke of twilight. The stench of blood covers the ash gray air. “I look around and feel the hopelessness and despair.” The loaded gun stares blankly into the silence. “I wasn’t sure if I had done the right thing…taking justice into my own hands.” The worn out-mask by the passenger seat sends an auditory disarray of silence. “I was supposed to inspire justice and righteousness…I guess I took it too far…” The car whirred relentlessly under the crescendo of the half moon. “It wasn’t supposed to end this way…I didn’t choose to become the very thing I fought against…” The sound of silence strengthens his resolve; he touches his head and feels a sharp pain shriek through his nerves. “This has to be done…Before the darkness comes.”

October 24^th 11:59 P.M. a notorious crime lord was found dead. He was hanging upside down tied to a cross. “He always slithered his way out of prison, his hands were washed clean…as always. But now he couldn’t even slither out of the ropes that tied him, his blood was drained from his body.” Initial reports said that the assailants were Christian extremists from the southern provinces. “This guy tapped the black market selling guns to the Muslim terrorists, marking his territory—keeping the peace. The terrorists did their part by keeping the people afraid enough to keep quiet and do their jobs.” He lived in the city making his money work for him in the banks he controlled. He’s got congressmen and police officers under his payroll to cover his tracks. His imprints were everywhere—no one bothered to look just as long as it doesn’t affect them.

“The surprised look on his face relieved me from my grief; he knew what was coming from the terror shone in the brown of his eyes. I took him from the bed and threw him to the ground; he rolled like a rag doll and was awoken from his dreamy state. He realized that I was really there not just a nightmare in his head. He looked at me with a resigned fate and a sly smile of a child. My right hand thrust with full throttle between his eyes, my left hand landed a hook to his ribs. He spat blood from his mouth; his nose was a bloody mess. There was a gun by the side of his bed, he gave it a glance and didn’t bother to get it—he didn’t fight back, he didn’t call his bodyguards. He gave me a knowing look that pierced right through the black of my mask. I grabbed and thrashed him about almost ripping his clothes off. I beat him continuously; his body succumbed to every blow like a hollow doll. He looked at me through his bloodshot eyes and gave a knowing look. “Wh..a..t…ca…n…y…o..u…d…o?” he said with a muffled voice. I pulled him close to me and was about to pommel him again. “I’m only a symbol to this city, if you kill me or put me in prison, what next? There will always be someone who’ll replace me just as some nut would replace you…I didn’t draw anything out of this city that wasn’t here in the first place, I didn’t give them anything that they didn’t choose or want,” he said. I gave him a left hook and a right upper cut that sent him through the door and rolled down the stairs. Rising up he stood on two unstable feet with a wry smile he said with broken words, “I…own..t..his…c..it.y.” The noise rattled the whole house, awakening children from their rooms, a boy and a girl. Reminded me of my kids and what I set out to do—this mask and costume. The terror in those kids’ eyes filled my heart with despair and loathing. The children hugged their beaten father and protected him from my anger, I couldn’t move anymore, I couldn’t think. I rushed towards the window to make my escape. I broke the glass, the half-moon sang its endless waltz—the blackness of the night swallowed me whole. I knew I couldn’t escape.”

The empty streets that passed him by reminded him of how alone he was on his journey. Asking himself what more could he have done for a decaying city, a city lost and misguided—with only a handful of men trying to salvage its soul. Only to see the effect of their work wane as age approaches, they’ve withered down and died in a helpless state of mind. Freed crime lords and drug lords said to have been changed are now running this city, in public office. Expanding their network to different cities across the country. The robin hood of the city, loved by the people knowing their haunted past but chose to look the other way, kindness heals all wounds. The people were fed and educated by these people, they were taken cared of, they were protected. They vowed to take down crime, as crime had built and consumed their lives at the same time. The car drives on recklessly towards an abandoned part of the city as the rain continuously pours.

“What is evil what is good? If these very people whom I captured in the name of justice showed this kindness…What was I, what were they….Where lies the difference…” He awoke from his black stupor, surprised to have awoken in his house with his mask and costume off scattered on the floor. Its pitch black tint blurred his eyes for a moment, he stood up picked the remote and turned the TV on. “News alert, early this morning renowned businessman _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ was found dead in his home, he leaves behind his two children. He now joins his wife with the Heavenly Father,” said the newscaster. “This man would be greatly missed by the city, his acts of kindness shall be missed,” an interviewed friend said. “The man that has passed away has done a great deal for this city. The public school erected on the most criminal infested area and the poorest has shown this man’s vision for the future and his undying compassion towards people,” as the screen showed the mayor. “_ _ _ _ _ _ has done good since I can remember, he put up the orphanage and home for the homeless for our city, he was such a good man,” as the screen now featured a priest. “We will do our best to bring this heinous criminal who killed this city’s beloved son behind bars and in a gas chamber. He was more than a friend he was like a brother to me, he will be missed,” said the police commissioner. “And in other news the masked avenger strikes again. Foiling a drug deal at the bay ports, the perpetrators were found suspended forty feet into the air. The culprits were tied with drug paraphernalia and the address of their factory written on their foreheads. What will happen to this city without its hero? On the other hand, will the masked avenger find the criminal behind _ _ _ _ _ _ murder? We have award-winning psychologist Dr. _ _ _ _ opinion, up next stay tuned.” He turns the TV off and lets his eyes wander up at the ceiling looking down on him. “The day’s over at last the investigation can wait, for all I know I…” his voice trails off into the darkness of the night.

New leads have been found that indeed it was a Christian extremist group who killed renowned businessman _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _. Sources state that the alleged extremists pin Mr. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ for helping Muslim terrorists attack and raze their homes and provinces. The Christian extremists said he gave them weapons and money to scare the people. Keeping his hold on the land and property in the surrounding areas. They allege the businessman for hiring the terrorists as his bodyguards so that the people would remain quiet and loyal. Some of their family members were seen hanged upside down on a cross drained with blood. “God is fair and just, what you sow is what you reap,” their commander said. “The Muslim terrorists will feel the wrath of God fall upon them and the family of Mr. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ will have hell to pay,” he added. “God is on our side, we have had enough, this is WAR!!!.” “We will do all we can to shut down these terrorists and put an end to their menace,” the police commissioner said.

Looking at the evidence closely he decided to take justice into his own hands, “I should pay this guy a visit.” He puts on his dark costume and disappears into the shadows.

“Sir everything is going according to plan we’ll strike at midnight the next day,” a man said. “Very well. We didn’t see that one coming…better that we take advantage of this, push through with the plan. It seems like someone got here first…”

The moon hid itself behind the dark clouds, it was time to strike. He bulleted through the glass windows into the hallway dismantling the guards along the way. The commander was all alone in his office eating a late dinner, he heard someone knock and as he opened the door his body guard went flying through the air smashing into the door and landing on top off him. The dazed face slobbered all over his mouth giving him a wet kiss. Startled he got up to his feet terrified looking around he found nothing, just shadows lurking. “This is no time to be playing with your boyfriend my friend…” Within

seconds a fist landed between his eyes knocking him to the ground. He looked around and still couldn’t see anything. Another fist landed on his midsection sending him to his knees…”AAAWWWCCCKKKK” blood spewed into the wooden floor. “There goes dinner,” the voice said. “What do you want?” the commander said. “I want you,” the voice said. “You know what I want? The murder of _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ all fingers point to your group. You have every reason to do it …” the voice said. “NO! it wasn’t us although we planned to…someone got there before we did…he was all ready dead when we got there…” the commander said. “Listen I got a wife and kids to take care of and that man had it coming to him…We had enough…” The shadow revealed itself, the worn out mask revealed a sinister grin across the pale face. The mask was tattered and worn out bursting with raw emotion. “Justice must be served…”

The car careens into a dark driveway, he walks out of the car. His hazy eyes couldn’t tell the difference between night and day, the blackness is coming. He touches his head and feels pain dripping from his brain down to his toes, he is slowly losing strength. He takes the gun and the mask out of the car. The black rain pours down relentlessly, beating down on the empty streets. He sees a barrel of garbage burning through the glowing darkness of his eyes. He walks towards it and sees two sleeping homeless children next to their father. He stops and thinks as if in a dream and drops the tattered mask onto the wet pavement and walks away.

“Levi and Doug…How could I make it up to you?” The torrential rain fills the silence of the penumbra of darkness, bearing down on the burden he carries, and the decision he has to make. “This has to be done.” The click of the gun resounds an echo heard through the darkness. His hands tremble as he slowly points the gun towards his head. “This has to be done, to stop him and end what I’ve become…”

The gun stops and points to the sky. “You know this won’t change anything…You can’t kill me. I’m as much a part of you as you are a part of me…You can’t blame me…You KILLED those people!!! The gun swings wildly firing aimless shots into the abyss. “NO!!! I CAN NEVER BE LIKE YOU!!! What makes you any different from me??? At least I didn’t choose to hide under a mask…I did what I wanted for the greater good.”

“I’m not like YOU!!! It was a mistake. I should have seen the signs. I could’ve stopped you but things were going so well. I was so enamored with my self and my newfound prestige. The crime lords, corrupt politicians you name it they were all dropping like flies and I took credit for them. I couldn’t admit it…That I couldn’t track YOU DOWN!!! That I was weak…I made up evidence…Things were good, the crime rate was down, the poor were getting fed, everyone was happy, everyone got what they wanted!!! I was their Hero, someone they could look up to knowing it could be anybody under that mask.”

“You can’t blame me, YOU CREATED ME!!! You use me as a scapegoat but when in fact you always had a choice!!! YOU ARE NOT BLAMELESS!!!” The gun fires and hits the palm of his left hand. His hand bled profusely and another shot was fired, it pierced through the sole of his right foot.

“IF YOU KILL ME YOU KILL YOURSELF!!! What have you accomplished? You have accomplished NOTHING!!! It’s been fifteen years since you’ve gone under a mask…I’ve been watching you since the beginning. Nothing has changed! The same things are happening but different people are running the show, they’re saying the same things and doing the same things but under a different guise. Actually, pretty much like you and the freaks that rode your bandwagon. The VERY people you fight for will use you as a SCAPEGOAT!!! just as what you are doing with me. When they’ve got nothing left to hate they’ll start hating you…” The darkness is slowly enveloping his senses, his head is hurting, sending a multitude of waves through his spine. “The poor you saved will only replace the wretched rich that they have so eagerly contempt. The world won’t change just because you forced it to.” His hands are shaking vigorously as he dropped the gun. Hallucinations of the people they killed spawn themselves in the river of his eyes. Alive more than ever, he could feel their screams bouncing off the flesh of his skin. The inundation of rain painted their faces with the pallid horror upon their death. “AAAHHHH!!! NO! NO! NO! Stay AWAY FROM ME!!!”

“Give it up you can’t win, you’re dead either way…By killing yourself you’d make my victory so much sweeter HEHEHE!!! By living you’d carry the badge of murder in your hands…What makes you any different then from those you’ve put in prison? What makes you a hero??? Come let’s dance this endless waltz together…You will still be the hero everyone adores, faultless and righteous. Together we will make it work…

The glimmer of light coming from the half-moon pierces through the black rain slowly pointing its way to the gun. “I MUST NOT WAIVER!!! O…nn…eeee..www.aaa…yyy…to..s…t..op..this…madness…” His hands thrash about, waving wildly throwing the gun to the side of the street. His right hand throws a right hook to his face knocking him down. “Tsk tsk temper temper we don’t want damaged

goods don’t we?” The image of two children flash across his mind like an eternal sunshine. “Levi and Doug…” He falls to his knees and looks up as the baptism of rain falls heavily on his shoulders. “I did this for the two of you…for your mother.”

October 24^th 7:00 P.M. Two male children were found tied and gagged in their rooms, male identical twins aged seven. A woman was found naked in a bedroom. She was raped and suffered multiple stab wounds in the chest and genital area, pronounced dead on arrival, she was twenty-seven. The two children are suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder due to the break in and murder. A total of P150,000 worth of cash, jewellery and valuables were reportedly stolen. A neighbor reported the crime as he heard the screams from the upper rooms of the apartment—no one else bothered to help.

“The first time I heard the news I was thrown into a fit of rage. The address the descriptions, the children..my wife..I knew exactly where to go and who to go after. I was on his case looking at new witnesses to take him to trial to put him behind bars. So close to nailing him, there was always evidence and witnesses. But it was always the same the witnesses either disappeared or changed their statements. He pulled strings here and there paid of politicians and judges, silenced anyone who stood in his way. I had to do something, my hands were shaking my head was swaying to and fro. I looked in the mirror and knew what I had to do…I went right to work, tracking him down was no problem, being in the police department and all. Getting equipment was not so hard either, I was also physically well trained due to the extra work-out I usually do after work hours. I was ready…”

He walks towards the gun uneasily, swaying back and forth. His senses are numb and dumbfounded, a squalid scream shot through his ears. He falters momentarily losing himself. “Temper temper no can do.”

“It was like living a childhood dream hiding under a mask, no one knows who you are. At first, the costume looked like hell and child’s play, a black bonnet over my head with tinted goggles, talk about a high school prank or some teenager shoplifting, it seemed like a joke. I went after small fry at first, the local shoplifter and mugger, the occasional rapist and kid pimp in the avenue, taught that kid a lesson brought him to a foster home, just to get used to this hero stuff. The look on the faces of the people after I’ve saved them was always priceless. They gave looks of different sorts others were deeply thankful, some were indifferent, some turned on me after I’ve saved them. There was a time this middle-aged man in a shop thought I was a shoplifter almost called the cops on me. I gave ‘em a love tap that knocked him off a bit so I could make my escape. That day was the first time I made the evening news not exactly the point I wanted to make. “In today’s evening news: masked man, vigilante? Hero? Or crook? Up next stay tuned!” said the newscaster. Not exactly good publicity but as the cliché goes there’s no such thing as bad publicity. After that night, I decided to revamp the costume instead of being mistaken as some crook I’d want to instil fear and respect. I decided to rid of the tinted goggles for a sleek metal plated black mask, no frills just black looking into a void that you can’t get out of. I didn’t bother putting on a cape for practical reasons even if it looks majestic. I settled for a sleek black suit for camouflage and easy movements and yes I didn’t want to look like an ass with my underwear outside my trousers, all black from top to bottom. I didn’t bother naming myself although the idea was intriguing at first, the bad and good guys could call me whatever the hell they wanted, it didn’t matter adds more to the mystery, scares the living hell out of them not knowing what to call me. The thrill of wearing a mask and stopping crime, scaring the living daylight’s out of crime lords and corrupt politicians. Creeping up behind them when they least expect it, beating them to a pulp to the brink of death just to get what I want from them. To admit, to point out accomplices and testify against each other was heck of a lot of fun. The site of their bloody faces mocking justice for the last time. It was fun, the adulation, the prestige, the people’s champion…The crime lords had no answer for me, the corrupt politicians were caught tongue-tied, their little game was being whittled away piece by piece. Their drug deals were being distraught before it even started, their money laundering thoroughly washed and hung dry. The little corrupt boys in city hall started using money for the city and the urban poor, feeding and educating them, finally getting things done. It was my city. I was on a high, I could do no wrong…The accolades came one after another, there was praise everywhere the city (no pun intended) had a face to heroism, the women came easy and again no pun intended. I was lonely, they didn’t know who I was…Made me forget things that I shouldn’t be forgetting and things that I should’ve been doing…”

The black rain slowly caresses his face waking him from his stupor. The dim light from the half-moon wakes him momentarily sharing its light on the dark alley. “Levi and Doug…”

“It’s been fifteen years…I did this for the two of you…for your mother. I wanted to change the world because these people were taking too much all ready…I took justice into my own hands…Even if I unknowingly stained it with blood. I felt helpless that I couldn’t do anything even as a cop, I only caught the small fry and the fall-guys but the big fish were always let loose…Now I must pay for it…I should have spent more time with you two after your mother died…I could’ve done real change…”

He pulls himself together inching closer. He feels a fist go through his left side, he loses breath for a moment the darkness takes over his eyes…”No not yet.” A pain as fierce as a bullet shrivels up in his head, taking him down….”It’s my turn now hehehe.” “Not just yet…”

“I can’t let you win…you can’t win. I know what I must do…” He reached out for the gun drenched by the rain. Taking it inch by inch towards the creases of his skull. ‘Temper temper.” He takes the gun and fires two shots into the air, one grazing the side of his graying hair. “You can’t do it, face it you need me, I’m holding the gun right now I can end all this for you since you can’t really decide for yourself…As I’ve all ready told you, all will be well…drop the gun.”

“This life I’ve lived was it all worth it? Have I really done anything…? The world hasn’t changed since I’ve worn this costume. Levi and Doug…” The pale moonlight shed its light on the dark alley revealing a figure forming out of the darkness. The tired brown eyes, the mouth, the grey beard, the scar on the left cheek. All too familiar in the pool of his eyes. The rain didn’t seem to wet the figure’s clothes, it was clean compared to his bloody appearance. It came up close, the penumbra of light revealed the figure’s

face—it was him. It was like looking into a mirror, there was no identifiable difference between the two of them they had the same features.

“Temper temper, you look surprised.” Out of his beaten and bloody face a look of disbelief shot through his eyes. The voice came from his mouth but he didn’t move his lips to say anything. A chill went through his spine, he couldn’t move, all emotion evaporated from him. The first time they’ve seen eye to eye, he didn’t know what to feel, he wasn’t scared nor was he happy. “Surprised aren’t you? What were you expecting? Some monster with two horns?” He through a fist that landed in the midsection of his alter ego, sending the gun sprawling across the floor. Placing a foot on the fallen man’s face he said, “I’m giving you an offer you can’t resist but you still insist on pushing through with your little plan…I thought I told you all ready, there’s no way you can win!!!

He crawls slowly towards the gun. “Are you looking for this?” He waves the gun in the air mockingly pointing it at him. “I wouldn’t go on a monologue without taking this little toy, would I?”

“Get it through that head of yours, you’re fighting a lost cause, you can’t win, how many times do I have to tell you? Kill me then what? It won’t change the fact—you killed those people…Not me you did. But it was for the greater good wasn’t it? I was just their watching…maybe I interfered a bit but you know it was your choice. You know I won’t kill you I need you just as you need me…I’m protecting you from yourself you hear?”

He looks at the gun held in the other man’s right hand and thinks…”If he’s holding it then…” He noticed the grin on the other man’s face and pointed the gun towards the man’s head. Two guns looking into a mirror engulfed in silence as the pale moon disappears into the darkness. Two gunshots were fired, a body falls into the ground with two holes in the head bleeding profusely. “It’s over…” The gun falls to the ground as the rain pours on relentlessly. He gingerly gets on the car holding the side of his face. The blood from the gunshot wound flowed continuously putting him into a dreamy state. Then slowly his eyes turn into glass staring at the white in front of him, his eyes drifting into sleep.

Five years after their father had disappeared the twins decided to stop looking…

As the light from the sun creeps through the heavy-set blinds, the formless figures from the shadows slowly reveal themselves. The two men were identical from the tips of their dark hair to the size of their feet. Both men moved about restlessly anticipating each word that comes out of the other. The mannerisms of “Its time we finally ended this chapter in our lives, we never really got to see him much since mother died,” said Levi. “It has been a while, we didn’t get to know him much he was always busy and didn’t seem to want to be bothered,” said Doug. “He left behind so many question marks.” “We did our best to find him…he suddenly just disappeared—even the body wasn’t found.” “They said he went out for a while didn’t bother telling anyone where he was going.” “Its best that we just move on put an end to this, lets call for a wake and burial.” “A ceremonial one at that there is no body, and pops was pretty well-known in the department.” “A good man at that from what I’ve heard never let up he could’ve been police commissioner if only he took the offer.”

The rain poured on relentlessly, the damp moist clung onto the epitaphs of unknown men it was the same during that night the 24^th of October. The faceless figures travelled about on the muddy ground with their black umbrellas hanging over their heads. Their footsteps making soundless echoes across the whispers of the wind. No one stood out of the crowd, their dilapidated faces stung the moonlight air and vanished as their voices were absolved by the darkness.

Only two men stood out of the crowd. “That boy of _ _ _ _ _ _ he’s very nice, a little rough around the edges but he’s all right,” a man said. “I heard he was running a school for orphaned children the young man has a bright future ahead of him,” the police commissioner said. “A good man indeed heard he was putting up a charity for the benefit of the homeless and uneducated,” the mayor said. “A man of his stature will do great things for our city. We need more fine young men like these, our children need examples to look up to in these dark hours we’ve suddenly come across.” “Too bad there father wasn’t around to see his children grow into fine young men.”

“He’s just a little too hard on himself lately since they couldn’t find their father’s body.” “Well anyway the day couldn’t be more sombre, the masked man suddenly disappeared into thin air as of late. Wonder where he’s gone too. Things haven’t been going well for our once peaceful city as of late. Those goddamn extremists have gone on too far. They’ve resorted to thievery, arson, murder, you name it. All in the name of God so they say. They’ve dragged everybody into this mess women, children, old men. Naming names to their victims all good men from what I’ve heard. They say the people they’ve killed were common criminals, crime lords, fascists guised as benevolent businessmen. Oppressed their families and milked every inch of their provinces so they say. The nerve of those brutes!!! Killing these good and honest men, they are the ones who should be eradicated from society. And they say God is on their side.”

The voices falter as the rain keeps pouring on disappearing slowly into the shadows, they are left alone at the grave staring into the epitaph buried next to his wife. Here lies _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _, 1973-2020. The tears remain crystal in the whites of their eyes looking on as the last of the visitors pay their respects. They were all saying the same thing your father was a good man.

The rain kept on falling replacing the tears on their eyes. The pale half moon’s light dances across the muddy floor, the grave was empty. “It’s finally over and done with,” Doug said. “It was about time we ended this chapter of our lives, I’m sad that we never really got to know dad as much as these people. We’ve heard more about him these past few days compared to the years we’ve lived with him.” “He was very secretive wasn’t he, he was hiding something from us…since mother died he wasn’t the same. He was there but at the same time he wasn’t…”

“They say he was investigating the murder of renowned businessman _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _,” said Levi. “They said the case was closed after they found the body of the extremists’ leader badly beaten, he bled to death hanging on a five story building, it was all over the papers it was big news. Come to think of it after that event the so-called hero of the city disappeared that masked man in a black suit. Then everything started falling apart…Extremists here and there, political unrest, crime rate is up, everyone’s out for their own skin now. Just a thought I suppose,” Doug said.

“Speaking of heroes have you heard of the news lately there’s some cuckoo dressed in all white the exact opposite of that man wearing all black, it’s a clear lack of imagination and a sad joke for that matter,” Levi said. “Picking up where that man left off.” “I still do want to believe in people they just have to be led in the right direction you know…Just because you’re some hotshot celebrity you can say whatever you want haha,” Doug said jokingly. “At least someone out there is doing something,” he continued. “For all I know it might be you haha. You did have a penchant for wearing costumes especially spandex hahaha,” Levi said. “Speak for yourself Batman haha,” Doug said while giving a knowing wink. The two mirrored each other, they were the same from the tips of their dark hair to the size of their shoes. But they were different all the same.

“If we lived in an ideal world this would all end, all of this. We would’ve been one family then,” they said to each other.

“It never ends…it never ends” the voice whispered into the thick damp air. The voice danced along their ears emulating a familiar echo. Both men heard the whisper looked around but there was no one there. “Did you hear that?” Doug said. “Yes,” said Levi. “I don’t see anyone around, what or who was it?” Doug said. “I think it’s a ghost…” “This is no time for fun and games Levi.” They continued looking as the dark rain filled the skies but to no avail. The voice lingered in their heads then disappeared waiting for its time once again.

The rain poured on, the same during that night of the 24^th of October. A man wearing an overcoat walked through the mist looked back and touched the scar on his face. “It never ends boys…It never ends…hahaha” His voice trails off into the night of day. The figure of the man slowly disappears as he walks towards the moonshine he puts on a mask which was neither black nor white.

Deja Vu

Looking at you through the banner of stars in the night.

Thinking of a dream of you in the twilight.

The reflection of your shadow in the blue skies of my mind.

The ephemeral shape of a distant image

dancing in the golden brick road of imagination.

The familiar movements of a languid assonance.

The daydreams of childhood.

The nightmares of mildew.

The concordant radiance mirrored in your eyes.

The reflection of me that I failed to see.

Return to Sender

I look into your eyes

as the light drips from the skies.

Staring intently,

looking for answers to questions,

questions to answers.

To grasp the beauty in certainty.

I feel that I’ve known you for a long time

as I look at you for the first time.

Your eyes, your lips,

your brown hair to its tips.

All too familiar.

The touch of your skin

the manners of your whim.

All too familiar.

I’ve seen your reflection on

the haze of the twilight sunset.

It’s silhouette etched on the embers of my mind.

It’s like I’ve known you for so long…

Fate must’ve have been toying with us.

I’ve seen your face across the streets.

Touching hands slightly at the sidewalk

as the cars race behind us.

Re-aligning the stars

to places afar.

Borrowing the same book on different dates,

taking in and pausing on the same page.

Shared daydreams of an eternal sunshine

whisked away by the busyness of the day.

Destiny is forever waiting for its turn to bloom.

Sighing its exasperated breath under the moonshine.

Re-aligning the stars

to places afar.

Finding its way back to you.

Each new encounter is a beginning to an end

an end to a beginning.

A new sunrise

through the mirror of your eyes.

Superhero

The dark sky rains down on the tumultuous streets.

The roars of despair and hate rings in your ears.

Guns blazing, burning, burning, burning.

The world weeps as it turns on the dark space.

Out of the drug-laden, alcoholic haze of the human condition

a man who chose to conceal his face…

Wearing a mask that no one can see

a suit that melts into the chameleon of the eye.

To set things straight, to make things right.

Masked escapades dwindle in the music of despair.

Masked justice….

Masked crime…

Moving hand in hand, inseparable.

One bad day, a practical joke.

Years passed, the world remains the same.

Crooked cops and politicians,

patricide and homicide,

the stench of death fills the twilight air.

The masked man is old and depraved.

Grown weary at the world.

He goes to a dark house around the corner

sees a murder taking place…

A masked man with a similar face,

strangling life out of the mangled corpse.

He grabs the masked man and beats him to a pulp,

strips him of his masked identity.

The black eyes looked into him as a reflection of his own,

with its bloody eyes and face, it looks at the masked avenger

and gave a sly grin then broke out in uncontrollable laughter.

He takes justice into his own hands, and leaves the empty house…

He returns home and looks up at the abyss.

The man in the mask stares at the world

as it burns beneath the shadow of time.

He looks in the mirror and sees the darkness within

and the light that could break it…

He leaves the room and takes his coat.

The T.V. spoke to the nothingness in the walls…

“In today’s news we have a guest speaker, Dr. Wilhelm Mason

to discuss his award winning book

Why the World Doesn’t Need Heroes.”

Chocolate Sundae

Vanilla and chocolate mixed into one!

Oh! How desire fills me to the brim!

The sinewy chocolate embracing

the white skin of vanilla.

Languidly dripping down through my throat

like a passion on hold during spring time.

Longing for that moment in time

to touch and feel your coldness and warmth

as you fuse into my body.

Chocolate and vanilla

what a wonderful treat!

Double the pleasure, double the fun.

Disastrous mixture made into one!

Forever clinging into my being

through its fat into my heart.

And to think that before

I used to remove the chocolate syrup

and just eat your vanilla whiteness.

But after a while just vanilla lost its tingle.

You became so drab and boring

tasteless to some degree

how I yearned for more from you!

I put you aside to melt in the sun

to reminisce about our time and fun.

After a while, I’ve seen you again

covered in a blanket of chocolate

as you were the first time we met.

I took a bite

oh! What delight!

Tasting you again in all your splendor.

Never again will I take you apart.

You taste much better as you are.